Save you while there's something left save
by Willofhounds
Summary: A/B/O fic. An omega is pulled out of the sea of Marsae. It is found that he doesn't have any memory but he has skills that are only seen in soldiers. When nothing came up on their searches for his past he leaves to find it.
1. Chapter 1

Oliver's POV

He dodged a punch meant for his throat. Grabbing the wrist he twisted it and kicked the person in the stomach. They bent over slightly then twisted his arm. It hurt but he pushed through it.

Oliver pulled his arm free and struck out. His fist caught the other in the throat. The other went down. In the next instant he was on top of him his elbow at the others throat.

He snarled," Yield!"

The black haired man under him said," I yield. Well done."

Oliver regained his feet and held out his hand. He didn't even hesitate to take it. Pulling the other to his feet was a test. It checked for injuries on both parties.

Oliver asked carefully," Anything new, Gordon?"

Gordon shook his head as he said," Nothing yet. It seems Carlos has gone to ground. How are your flashbacks?"

Oliver replied as they moved towards the house," Same as yesterday. They come and go in my sleep."

Gordon gave him a glare. One that said he didn't believe him. Between Gordon and the doctor he was getting that a lot.

Looking up at the house he saw a man standing there. A brown haired man with hazel eyes was watching them. Doctor Morris Panov. His doctor according to Alex and the Monk.

The house that he was at was a safe house. It was by a lake secluded in the mountains. It was a nice place but it wasn't home.

Pain coursed through his chest. Home. He didn't even have one anymore. No doubt the League was angry at him for leaving. He had left without a word. The bond between him and Ras was blocked.

Living in seclusion allowed him to avoid detection from his alpha. No doubt the man had sent the hounds after him. He hoped it wasn't Al Sayf. Not someone he wanted to fight with at a time like this. Not when they were so close to catching Carlos.

There was a twinge in his mind. A feeling that someone was pressing on his mind. It must be Ra's. There was no doubt in his mind that it was his alpha. The man had been relentless in his search trying to get the bond to open again.

Shaking himself from his thoughts he looked up as they reached the porch. Panov had his arms folded across his chest. The doctor's disapproval was clear on his face. It was the same look he had every time he found them fighting.

Panov said a hand held out to him," Come, David."

David. The name he was given when he joined the CIA. Ra's words kept coming back to him. A man cannot live by two names. Yet here he was living as multiple Al Sahim, Oliver Queen, David Webb, and Jason Bourne. So many identities clashing in one mind. It was no wonder they sent him the doctor.

With a deep breath he walked towards the man. Panov didn't touch him instead allowed him to pass. They went into the kitchen and Gordon went to his room. Only once had the other stayed for a session and it hadn't ended well. Panov had to sedate him. Not something he wanted a repeat of.

Oliver put his chair into a corner and his back in it. Years of training wouldn't allow him to have his back to a window or door for long periods. A look was sent to him from the doctor. The two of them had started talking three months ago when he had been assigned to this. Before that they had only met once before when he agreed to the assignment.

Three months away from his alpha. One who was desperately searching for him. That much he could tell. It hurt to be away from his alpha for so long. Hopefully wouldn't be for much longer. They were closing in on Carlos.

Panov said bringing him back to reality," Your spacing out again. What are you thinking about, David?"

David... why did he take that name again? So many memories that made him question his sanity. They were worse than his memories of the island. What scared him wasn't the memories. It was what came with them. The darkness that was who he had been in Tam Quan.

Panov leaned against the table his hand on his open palm as he asked," What's going through you head, David?"

Oliver said not meeting the man's gaze," I was thinking about what someone told me once."

That caught the other's attention. Oliver wasn't known for sharing on a small scale much less a bigger one. For the most part the doctor could get him to talk about his time as David. A few things here and there. Nothing about Oliver or his time as Delta.

Panov asked," What's that, David?"

He said running a hand through his hair," A man cannot live by two names."

Understanding entered the man's eyes. At this point it was a wonder he wasn't clinically insane. So many identities running around in his head. Clashing with each other. David and Delta clashing majorly. Jason was able to push them back for the most part. That's who he had to be at the moment. Otherwise the world could go to shit.

Ra's POV

Three months. It had been three months since Oliver had disappeared. There was almost no sign of the omega. It had been a frustrating trying to find any clue on the younger man's whereabouts. Trying to find Oliver was taking its toll on the League. Then there was the matter of hunting two killers.

One was Carlos the Jackel. A trained Venezuelan killer. There was little known about him beyond his name. It took most of the League's resources just to keep up with him. Tracking him down had been damn near impossible.

Then there was Cain. He was just as elusive as the Jackel. He was a chameleon. No one knew exactly what he looked like. Or even just a general description of the man. Even finding out his dynamic was impossible. Everyone that had come across him had different descriptions.

With all of his resources he couldn't even find out where Cain had come from. Most of what they knew was that he appeared just over three months prior. That he was hell bent on out doing the Jackel.

A knock sounded on his door. He said taking a calming breath," Enter."

Al Owal walked in. He was a grizzly black haired man. Most of the League disliked him for his hard constitution. He was an alpha who had a hard life. Joined the League in his early twenties.

Ra's remembered the man that had come in. Eyes so full of pain. Of being lost. He didn't know what had made him want to help the younger but he did.

Al Owal had been one of his most loyal members ever since. Not once had he regretted his decision to help the man with his demons. He was one of his most trusted members.

Al Owal bowed as he said," My liege, I have received word on Al Sahim."

Ra's swung to face him. The man continued," In my efforts to locate Cain I came across an intelligence group inside the CIA. And I found this."

He held out a file. When Ra's opened it he was surprised. On it was an unfamiliar name. Treadstone 71. Pushing past the first page he went to the next. A picture of a familiar blond hair man. It was Oliver. He began to read.

Treadstone 71 operation. Lead by David Abbot the Monk, and Gordon Webb.

Operative: David Webb (omega). Name by birth Oliver Queen.

History- David Webb was given the identity by Alexander Conklin. At sixteen was looking for a new life. Was chosen for to become an intelligence officer for the agency. Due to an unforseen personal tradegy David Webb joined the medusa program.

That was where Ra's had to stop. The League had heard of that program. Medusa had been a covert black ops group. The League had many dealings with them. Some of the group had been reasonable others had not.

He asked," Did you know?"

Al Owal replied," No my liege. I suspected he had more training than just from the island. Nothing was confirmed though. As you know he rarely spoke of his past."

Some of it he didn't. Things from his time at Starling City were in the green zone. Off limits were the island and the three years he went missing before the island. Three years that would coincide with Medusa's height of power. He continued reading knowing it would have more answers.

After three weeks of training century team twelve was formed. David Webb was given the callsign Delta by David Abbot callsign The Monk. He was given control over the team.

Ra's once again had to stop. Delta of century team twelve. The best of the entirety of Medusa. From what he knew only two ended up outside of the CIA. Only one ended up in operations. The rest of them ended up in psychiatric hospitals. Delta and Echo were the two that left the spy life behind. Right around the same time Oliver Queen returned to Starling City.

He skipped over a few paragraphs until he reached a more recent part.

Three weeks ago: The Monk contacted David Webb. The recruitment process began. At first he seemed reluctant to return to the field. Saying he had other obligations. It took a lot of convincing but eventually agreed to return. With the aid of Gordon Webb David Webb's return was quick. Retraining then began.

Psychologist notes- Doctor Morris Panov

David Webb exhibits signs of post traumatic stress symptoms. Likely from his time as leader of a Medusa team.

He also exhibits signs of a mated omega. Whether his alpha is alive or dead has yet to be determined.

Physically the operative is ready for his mission. Psychologically he is unstable. A chance that his mind will break he will turn on his objective is possible but not likely. A more likely scenario is suicide.

Continued therapy is recommended. Contact with his brothers is highly recommended. Finding his alpha to calm his emotions would be best case scenario.

The psychological notes ended there. It left him with a lot to think about. His omega was psychologically unstable. Suicide was a likely option according to a doctor.

He felt anger and fear course through him. Oliver shoulder be there with him not in some godforsaken part of the world. What the hell had he been thinking agreeing to this foolhardy plan?

Both he and Al Owal were startled when his phone went off. There were only a handful of members that had his personal number. Ones not redirected to him.

He looked down at the phone and didn't recognize the number. He answered his tone carefully neutral," Who is this?"

A familiar voice said growling at someone over the line," Ra's... Gordon where the hell is the field box in here?"

"Oliver..."

Oliver's POV

The ringing in his ear was driving him crazy. Ra's either was going to pick up in the next minute or he wasn't. It was an unfamiliar number to his alpha. The chances of him picking up was slim. He knew that when he decided to call.

Where did Gordon move his fucking field box? They seemed to move it every time he had a flashback. Now he needed the damn thing.

A familiar timbre voice questioned anger layering his tone," Who is this?"

Oliver couldn't help his reaction even as he yelled at his brother," Ra's... Gordon where the hell is the field box in here?"

Gordon stuck his head around a box in his hand. Finally his field box. As he took it from Gordon the line erupted again.

"Oliver..."

He couldn't help it. He stiffened. A look was sent to him from Gordon. The elder Webb had something of a sixth sense for these things.

Oliver waved him off. This was not a conversation he needed to overhear. He turned and went into his room. The bag for missions was in there.

He said grabbing the bag from the closet," Ra's I don't have much time."

Ra's reply didn't surprise him," Are you okay? Are you safe?"

Oliver stuffed his field box into the bag as he replied," I'm fine. You can tell that."

Even through a blocked bond. He missed his alpha. Yet he couldn't go home. Not until he put the Jacket on ice. Bastard was threatening too much to be left on his own.

Ra's said sounding hurt," I can sense your love and comfort. Oliver what is going on?"

Gordon knocked on his door and said," David I have everything set up. You're good to good to go."

Oliver said nodding carefully," Good I'll finish up here." Ra's?"

His alpha said," Oliver I'm still here. What is going on?"

Throwing a handful of clothes into the bag he answered," A lot is going on Ra's. Most of which I don't have time to explain."

"Oliver I know about the Treadstone program."

Fear coursed through him. He knew? How in the hell did Ra's find out about the program? Monk was going to kill him.

He asked," How? Ra's how did you find out about the program?"

His bag was packed and he was ready to go. Jackel was on the move and he had this one chance before the bastard disappeared again.

Ra's growled slightly," Oliver, we found your file. You were part of the Medusa program..."

Anything else that was said went over Oliver's head. Heat licked his face as if he was standing too close to a fire. Screaming and gunfire sounded all around him.

He heard," Delta! We have to go! We can't stay here!"

"Echo! We will not leave without Almanac! Either your with me or your against me. Now what is your decision?"

The voice said with a sigh," I'm with you, Delta."

When he came out of it Gordon was in front of him. Kind blue eyes searching his own. It took several moments for him to calm himself.

Ra's asked panic in his tone," Oliver?! What's wrong? Oliver?!"

He waved Gordon off as he answered his alpha," I'm okay. Memories of a time best left forgotten."

A comforting rumble came from his alpha. The man said," Oliver come home."

He shook his head and said," I can't Ra's. I have to see this through to the end. I'm sorry Ra's."

"Oliver!"

He closed his phone cutting off their connection. As much as he wanted to continue speaking with the man he had a job to do. Maybe when this was all over his alpha would forgive him.


	2. The man with without memories part 1

The trawler plunged into the angry swells of the dark, furious sea like an awkward animal trying desperately to break out of an impenetrable swamp. The waves rose to goliathan heights, crashing into the hull with the power of raw tonnage; the white sprays caught in the night sky cascaded downward over the deck under the force of the night wind. Everywhere there were the sounds of inanimate pain, wood straining against wood, ropes twisting, stretched to the breaking point. The animal was dying.

Two abrupt explosions pierced the sounds of the sea and the wind and the vessel's pain. They came from the dimly lit cabin that rose and fell with its host body. A man lunged out of the door grasping the railing with one hand, holding his stomach with the other. A second man followed, the pursuit cautious, his intent violent.

He stood bracing himself in the cabin door; he raised a gun and fired again. And again. The man at the railing whipped both his hands up to his head, arching backward under the impact of the fourth bullet. The trawler's bow dipped suddenly into the valley of two giant waves, lifting the wounded man off his feet; he twisted to his left, unable to take his hands away from his head. The boat surged upward, bow and midships more out of the water than in it, sweeping the figure in the doorway back into the cabin; a fifth gunshot fired wildly.

The wounded man screamed, his hands now lashing out at anything he could grasp, his eyes blinded by blood and the unceasing spray of the sea. There was nothing he could grab, so he grabbed at nothing; his legs buckled as his body lurched forward. The boat rolled violently leeward and the man whose skull was ripped open plunged over the side into the madness of the darkness below. He felt rushing cold water envelop him, swallowing him, sucking him under, and twisting him in circles, then propelling him up to the surface—only to gasp a single breath of air.

A gasp and he was under again. And there was heat, a strange moist heat at his temple that seared through the freezing water that kept swallowing him, a fire where no fire should burn. There was ice, too; an icelike throbbing in his stomach and his legs and his chest, oddly warmed by the cold sea around him.

He felt these things, acknowledging his own panic as he felt them. He could see his own body turning and twisting, arms and feet working frantically against the pressures of the whirlpool. He could feel, think, see, perceive panic and struggle—yet strangely there was peace. It was the calm of the observer, the uninvolved observer, separated from the events, knowing of them but not essentially involved. Then another form of panic spread through him, surging through the heat and the ice and the uninvolved recognition.

He could not submit to peace! Not yet! It would happen any second now; he was not sure what it was, but it would happen. He had to be there! He kicked furiously, clawing at the heavy walls of water above, his chest burning. He broke surface, thrashing to stay on top of the black swells. Climb up! Climb up! A monstrous rolling wave accommodated; he was on the crest, surrounded by pockets of foam and darkness. Nothing. Turn! Turn! It happened. The explosion was massive; he could hear it through the clashing waters and the wind, the sight and the sound somehow his doorway to peace.

The sky lit up like a fiery diadem and within that crown of fire, objects of all shapes and sizes were blown through the light into the outer shadows. He had won. Whatever it was, he had won. Suddenly he was plummeting downward again, into an abyss again. He could feel the rushing waters crash over his shoulders, cooling the white-hot heat at his temple, warming the ice-cold incisions in his stomach and his legs and.… His chest. His chest was in agony! He had been struck—the blow crushing, the impact sudden and intolerable.

It happened again! Let me alone. Give me peace. And again! And he clawed again, and kicked again … until he felt it. A thick, oily object that moved only with the movements of the sea. He could not tell what it was, but it was there and he could feel it, hold it. Hold it! It will ride you to peace. To the silence of darkness … and peace.

Ra's POV

Pain coursed through him. It was like a hellfire. First was in his abdomen followed by one in the head. Finally one in the chest.

Years of being in the League made him very familiar with the sensation. Someone had shot his omega. The only things he could feel out of the younger's mind was water and darkness. Nothing to go on. Nothing to help him find the young man.

He let out a distressed sound. One that didn't come naturally to him. Due to this it sent his guards rushing in. They gave him anxious looks but he waived them off.

He growled," It's Al Sahim."

Their eyes widened one left. Likely to get Al Owal, Al Sayf, or Nyssa. The other's faces were like masks. With practiced ease though he could see though their masks. All of the guards were worried about their missing brother. Three months that Oliver had been away had been hard on the entire league. Ra's especially.

Something he had noticed was that he was more irritable. With Oliver not being there to temper it it was beginning to show. Now with his omega injured and near death he was worried. He didn't know where the younger man was. Or why he had been shot.

The door to his rooms opened again. This time it was the who he had suspected. Al Owal, Nyssa, and Al Sayf. In his hands Al Owal had papers. Ones that he suspected might give them a lead on Oliver.

Al Owal said with a rumble," Al Sahim was spotted in Marsae. As for what he was doing there..."

The grizzly alpha held out the papers. Just that morning a politician had been killed. Shot by someone at long range. This was not someone the League had an interest in. If Oliver killed the man the question was why. He would have no reason to. Oliver was not someone who killed needlessly.

Turning to them he said," Find him. Bring him home. One way or another."

It was left unsaid that he would monitor the bond. As much as he wanted to he couldn't go with them. At least not yet.

Oliver's POV

A blond haired man slowly regained consciousness. His grey eyes blinked slowly up at the ceiling. It was white and unfamiliar to him. He could hear distinct sounds of waves crashing outside. By the sound of it they were close.

Hearing a sound to his right he called out every muscle tensed,"Who's there? Who's in this room?"

A sandy blond haired man came into view. He was about 6'2 with ocean green eyes. The man was likely in hjs early fifties if the lines on his face were any indication. His movements were slow and careful as if approaching a frightened animal.

"A friend," the other said softly.

"Friend?" came the younger's reply.

"You speak English. I thought you would. American or Canadian is what I suspected. Your dental work didn't come from the UK or Paris. How do you feel?"

"I'm not sure."

"It will take awhile. Do you know where you are?"

For a moment he tried to remember where he was. Nothing came to mind. When he pushed harder his head began to ache painfully.

The older man said after a moment of silence," I'm a doctor, your doctor. My name is Geoffrey Washburn. What's yours?"

"What?"

"I asked you what your name was."

The young man moved his head and stared at the white wall streaked with shafts of morning light. Then he turned back, his blue eyes leveled at the doctor.

"I don't know."

"Oh, my God."


	3. The man without memories part 2

Washburn's POV

Geoffry's green eyes watched the young man as he paced. He was in his early to mid twenties. They had sent his DNA off to all the main counties. If this young man was apart of any of them they would know soon enough.

His thoughts went back to just a few days prior.

Flashback

Dr. Geoffrey Washburn awoke with a start, his chin settled into his collarbone causing the odor of his mouth to invade his nostrils; it was not pleasant. He blinked, orienting himself, and glanced at the open bedroom door.

Had his nap been interrupted by another incoherent monologue from his patient? No; there was no sound. Even the gulls outside were mercifully quiet; it was Ile de Port Noir's holy day, no boats coming in to taunt the birds with their catches.

Washburn looked at the empty glass and the half-empty bottle of whiskey on the table beside his chair. It was an improvement. On a normal Sunday both would be empty by now, the pain of the previous night having been spiraled out by the scotch.

He smiled to himself, once again blessing an older sister in Coventry who made the scotch possible with her monthly stipend. She was a good girl, Bess was, and God knew she could afford a hell of a lot more than she sent him, but he was grateful she did what she did. And one day she would stop, the money would stop, and then the oblivions would be achieved with the cheapest wine until there was no pain at all. Ever.

He had come to accept that eventuality … until three weeks and five days ago when the half-dead stranger had been dragged from the sea and brought to his door by fishermen who did not care to identify themselves. Their errand was one of mercy, not involvement. God would understand; the man had been shot.

What the fishermen had not known was that far more than bullets had invaded the man's body. And mind. The doctor pushed his gaunt frame out of the chair and walked unsteadily to the window overlooking the harbor.

He lowered the blind, closing his eyes to block out the sun, then squinted between the slats to observe the activity in the street below, specifically the reason for the clatter. It was a horse-drawn cart, a fisherman's family out for a Sunday drive. Where the hell else could one see such a sight? And then he remembered the carriages and the finely groomed geldings that threaded through London's Regent Park with tourists during the summer months; he laughed out loud at the comparison.

But his laughter was short-lived, replaced by something unthinkable three weeks ago. He had given up all hope of seeing England again. It was possible that might be changed now. The stranger could change it. Unless his prognosis was wrong, it would happen any day, any hour or minute.

The wounds to the legs, stomach, and chest were deep and severe, quite possibly fatal were it not for the fact the bullets had remained where they had lodged, self-cauterized and continuously cleansed by the sea. Extracting them was nowhere near as dangerous as it might have been, the tissue primed, softened, sterilized, ready for an immediate knife.

The cranial wound was the real problem; not only was the penetration subcutaneous, but it appeared to have bruised the thalamus and hippocampus fibrous regions. Had the bullet entered millimeters away on either side the vital functions would have ceased; they had not been impeded, and Washburn had made a decision.

He went dry for thirty-six hours, eating as much starch and drinking as much water as was humanly possible. Then he performed the most delicate piece of work he had attempted since his dismissal from Macleans Hospital in London. Millimeter by agonizing millimeter he had brush-washed the fibrous areas, then stretched and sutured the skin over the cranial wound, knowing that the slightest error with brush, needle, or clamp would cause the patient's death. He had not wanted this unknown patient to die for any number of reasons. But especially one. When it was over and the vital signs had remained constant, Dr. Geoffrey Washburn went back to his chemical and psychological appendage.

His bottle. He had gotten drunk and he had remained drunk, but he had not gone over the edge. He knew exactly where he was and what he was doing at all times. Definitely an improvement. Any day now, any hour perhaps, the stranger would focus his eyes and intelligible words would emerge from his lips. Even any moment.

"Who's there? Who's in this room?" Came from the room that housed his patient.

Washburn sat up in the cot, moved his legs quietly over the side, and rose slowly to his feet. It was important to make no jarring note, no sudden noise or physical movement that might frighten the patient into a psychological regression.

The next few minutes would be as delicate as the surgical procedures he had performed; the doctor in him was prepared for the moment.

"A friend," he said softly.

"Friend?"

"You speak English. I thought you would. American or Canadian is what I suspected. Your dental work didn't come from the UK or Paris. How do you feel?" This was a good start for them.

"I'm not sure."

"It will take awhile. Do you know where you are?" Came his soft question.

He waited for several moments. When it became obvious he didn't know Washburn said," I'm a doctor, your doctor. My name is Geoffrey Washburn. What's yours?"

"What?"

"I asked you what your name was."

The young man moved his head and stared at the white wall streaked with shafts of morning light. Then he turned back, his blue eyes leveled at the doctor.

"I don't know." Came the panicked reply.

"Oh, my God."

This wasn't good. If the young man didn't remember his name. Then it would be much harder to return him to his home.

End of flashback

While waiting on the DNA results he had called an old psychiatrist friend. The younger doctor had just gotten his doctorate when he had been kicked out. They kept in contact through the years.

According to the other doctor he would arrive late the day before. He would come visit sometime that day. All he had to do was keep his restless patient in the house.

The young man was looking out the window. His grey eyes were glazed as if deep in thought. Washburn had seen how his eyes went from blue to grey. Depending on the color his voice also changed. As if there were two people inside. Both fighting for control.

The man said in a soft voice," There's someone coming. Man brown hair about five ten."

It was said with confident precision. Even just the basic information gave him enough to know it was his friend. The way it was said made him think military.

A knock on the door made him turn. There was a hard look in the unknown man's eyes. It was as if he was ready to fight.

Calmly Washburn said," It's okay. I called him here. He's a doctor that might be able to help you."

The younger man's eyes searched his own. Then he nodded ever so slightly. It was the man's acceptance even knowing that he didn't have much of a choice.

Washburn opened the door and said," Mo it's good to see you. I'm glad you were able to make it. Now this young man is the one I wanted you to see."

A warm voice said gently as a brown haired walked through the open door his hazel eyes taking in the room," It's good to see you as well, Geoffrey. What can you tell me about him?"

Washburn said," He's in the kitchen there. I have a journal that he's read somewhat through. It has everything that he has said in his sleep and my own notes."

Morris smiled wearily as he said," I can't stay long. A friend has me trying to find where one of our men might go. He up and disappeared and no one can seem to find him."

They walked in where his patient sat. The young man had turned hearing their approach. His eyes watching them curious but guarded.

Mo to his surprise stopped short his mouth opened in greeting. Nothing came out as if he had been struck in the throat. He only stared at the blond haired young man. Said blond looked to him in confusion. He could only shrug having no idea what his friend's problem suddenly was.

Mo whispered breaking the silence," David..."

Panov's POV

Morris Panov was a very unhappy man. It had been weeks since his patient had disappeared. How one disappeared from a safe house he didn't understand. They had the best security. Yet somehow David Webb also known as Jason Bourne had done it.

Gordon Webb had been the picture of a guilty child. While he had not said where the other had gone they knew he played a part in it. After all the field box with everything Jason would need was in it. So they had put alerts and checked for any uses of ids he had been given. A hit came out of Marsae. Jason had flown and booked a hotel there.

Then there had been nothing. No one knew where he was or what he had been doing. Alex had sent agents to question clerks. All they knew was that a man had gotten a room and left. He never came back.

Gordon had paved, called all of his contacts, and done everything humanly possible to find David. It was as if he just vanished. Sometimes Mo wondered if his name shouldn't be Houdini instead of David.

So when he got a call from Geoffrey Washburn he took the welcome distraction. The patient sounded interesting. Someone with complete amnesia. Even as a psychiatrist one did not see true amnesiacs very often.

So he made his way to Marsae then to Ile de Port Noir. The little house on the beach was typical of his friend. No doubt the man was still an alcoholic. As he made his way to the house he felt eyes on them. Likely coming from the house.

When he knocked on the door there were muffled voices inside. Then the door opened. His old friend stepped out. A gentle smile crossed both of their faces.

Washburn said," Mo it's good to see you. I'm glad you were able to make it. Now this young man is the one I wanted you to see."

He said warmly," It's good to see you as well, Geoffrey. What can you tell me about him?"

Better to speak to the doctor first and gain some idea. Then speak to the patient.

Mo smiled wearily as he said," I can't stay long. A friend has me trying to find where one of our men might go. He up and disappeared and no one can seem to find him."

They walked in where his patient sat. The young man had turned hearing their approach. His eyes watching them curious but guarded.

It took him barely a minute to recognize the man. His blond hair and grey eyes were easily recognizable. Especially given how much time he spent with the other.

He said breathlessly," David..."


	4. The man without memories part 3

Unknown's POV

The strange brown haired man stood watching him. Something about him touched at his mind. Almost a memory without actually remembering.

The man had called him David. A name nothing more. Not one that brought forth any memories for him. There wasn't even any sense of recognition.

He wished he remembered something. Anything about his past. Washburn said it would come with time. It seemed patience was not his strong suit.

The younger doctor said moving slowly closer to him," David."

The man without an identity eyes shot towards the doctor. Washburn had earned his grudging trust. So he was allowed near him. However this unknown doctor did not.

Something in his eyes must have shown what he thinking. Mo as Washburn called him stepped back.

Washburn chided as if he was a small child," There is no reason to act like that. He's an old friend of mine before I was kicked out of the hospital."

He replied coldly eyeing the other doctor," I trust you. I do not trust this unknown doctor."

Washburn said rubbing between his eyes," Well this is doctor Morris Panov. He is a leading psychiatrist back in the states. Even the assholes at the state department use him."

Something in his mind stirred. Almost like a memory. When he tried to grasp at it, it slipped through his fingers. Instead he earned pain behind his eyes. He pushed the heel of his hand into his eyes trying to allievate the pain.

Washburn asked softly though it sounded like a shout to his ears," What's wrong? What do you remember?"

He shook his head only to regret it. It made the pain a hundred times worse. Trying to focus on his breathing he felt something cool pressed into his hand. Not daring to open his eyes he brought it to rest against his forehead. Definitely some kind of drink. If It was brandy he was going to yell at Washburn later.

A gentle hand touched his neck. That caused him to flinch back and open his eyes. Panov stood before him his hazel eyes watching him. For reasons he couldn't explain his body unconsciously relaxed.

His grey eyes looked into the hazel ones and said," You know about my past. You know what I can't remember."

Panov said nodding," I was your doctor. While I learned a lot about you I only knew you for three months. Then you disappeared. We have been searching for you ever since."

No one thought to look for him out here. He wouldn't have thought to look for him out here. That was certain. Panov's words clicked. He has said we. That meant there was others. People who knew who he was.

He asked trying to keep the hope out of his voice," Who am I?"

For a moment the doctor just stared at him. Then he said," You might want to get comfortable. I only know part of the story. I didn't have the clearance for the rest of it. Even the part that I know is long."

Washburn went to get two chairs and drinks. Panov for his part only took water. Which is what the man without an identity held in his hand. Something told him that this wasn't the doctor's first go around with his issues.

Questions swirled around in his confused mind. Why did he need a psychiatrist? What kind of work did he do that required a clearance level for the doctor?

Once both doctors had settled Panov looked pensive. Washburn had a scotch in one hand his notebook in the other. The notebook held everything that had been done by the doctor. Or had been said by him while he was in a coma.

Finally Panov broke the silence," It should be noted I have only known you for three months before you disappeared. I was brought onto a CIA operation to evaluate an asset. Said asset had been apart of a previous operation with a 4-0 clearance. Something I was not allowed to know about. 4-0 is CIA talk for this will never see the light of day. I was asked to talk with a man who took on an entire separate identity for this operation. That asset was you. You were introduced to me as David Webb third son of the Webb family."

David Webb. The name didn't spark anything inside him. 4-0 clearance however brought up names. Medusa. Alpha, Bravo, Charlie, Delta, Echo, Foxtrot. It caused more pain in his head. This time by the wound in his head. As much as he wanted to press his hand into it he could. Not with the risk of messing up the stitches. Washburn would kill him if he did that.

Panov asked his voice soft and soothing," What are you remembering, David?"

The man called David said his own tone matching Panov's soft tones," Names that mean nothing. No faces or pictures. Alpha, Bravo, Charlie, Delta, Echo, Foxtrot, Gamma."

Panov said his voice slightly tense," Medusa."

:How? How did the doctor know without him saying it?: his mind screamed. He said nothing though.

Instead he opened his eyes to see the doctor rubbing his eyes. Then the doctor said," It was about six years ago now. A group of men and women came back from overseas. Each had a number of psychological problems. I and several other doctors spent weeks evaluating each of them. Then one disappeared before his evaluation. Delta of century team 12. Only his handler and trainer knew his real name. This made it impossible to find him. Now I understand why there wasn't a massive hunt for him."

David was this Delta. His handler knew one day he might need him. So he was allowed to roam free. He wondered who his handler was.

Panov said his composure returning," I was taken to a house by a lake somewhere in Maine. Two men were sitting in the kitchen reviewing a file. They were talking about kills. One was a dark haired man with blue eyes. The other was a dirty blond haired man with blue grey eyes. That man was you. It was the first time we met. Just like today you were wary of me."

So wariness of people was normal behavior for him. The words that the man had said were processed. He had been gone for almost six years. Where was he between then and when the doctor met him. From the sounds of it. Whatever operation that was being planned was just in the beginning stages.

He asked," What do you know about my time in between?"

"There isn't much anyone can tell you about the time when you disappeared. I do know that you were not with the Webb's. Nor are you originally a Webb. As for your true identity I'm not sure. I'm not even sure your handler or controls knew."

New information. No new thoughts or memories came with it. Only more questions.

Washburn said thoughtfully," He is an omega. We could send his DNA off to the American embassy and see if we get a hit. From there it would give us a name and possibly a family to work with."

David turned to look at the doctor. For his part Panov seemed contemplative. The idea wasn't a bad one. Then again what about whoever shot him. They could come after him again. What if they knew his true identity? So many things could go wrong with the plan. Then again it could answer so many questions.

Panov said with a nod," It is likely our only option. With your permission David I will contact your handler. This way he doesn't think you have gone rogue."

His voice unsteady he asked," Was I a threat in terms of going rogue?"

Panov shook his head. That was a relief. One that was short lived however.

Panov's answer chilled him to his core," Psychologically the biggest threat was not of turning. No, that wasn't even an issue. The issue was the fact you were more of a danger to yourself."

He had been suicidal. Could he have gone on a mission knowing he wouldn't come back? If so why?

Panov's POV

It had only taken a moment for Geoffrey to take blood from David. While his patient accepted that he knew him. There was no trust between them. In fact they seemed to be right back where they started more than four months ago.

Morris had worked tirelessly to gain what little trust he had. It wasn't much mind you. Just enough that David had begun to open up. The masks had cracked just a little. Without his memories David was back to the same suspicious man he had been.

Morris had avoided using the name that David had taken this time. While they were in Europe and not the Far East. It was still a well known name.

David Webb had taken up the name Jason Bourne. Someone feared throughout the Far East. Even the mention of the killer for hires name would send people running. According to the papers he would kill anyone for the right price.

Thankfully the real man was not doing such things. Instead he took credit for high profile killings. It was all in an effort to bring out the true target. The only one who would be killed in this whole charade. Carlos the Jackel.

The operation was called Treadstone 71. It was led by David Abbot, Alexander Conklin, Gordon Webb and a select few others that he never met. They had been working on it for years before calling David. Which was probably the only reason why he agreed.

The David Webb he met was a tired man. He did not look like someone that was on an assignment. Morris had seen unstable patients with life in them than David. He didn't like it then. He still didn't like it now.

Shaking his head he pulled out his phone and dialed the number for the state department. It only took two rings before he was given to an operator. From there he had to pay for an overseas call. Then he was patched through.

Once he got through to the State department receptionist he said," Alexander Conklin please."

Looking at his watch he noted that Alex should still be there. The man didn't typically leave until almost seven. Eight on a bad day. Though there was a chance he was at one of the Treadstone houses. Then he would have to wait until Alex got back and have him call.

After a moment the line began ringing. That was a good sign. It meant Alex was likely in.

A curt annoyed voice said cutting through his thoughts," Conklin."

Morris said looking back at the house," Alex..."

That was as far as he got before Alex asked," Mo, where the devil are you? Do you have any idea what your up and leaving did?"

Morris shook his head to himself. That was Alex's way of saying he had been worried. Though the old agent would never admit it.

His reply would no doubt be the cause for more work for the man," Alex I have found your missing man."


	5. Missing memories part 1

A/N Thanks for your reviews and support.

white collar black wolf: Thanks for your review my friend.

David's POV

Three days after Panov's appearance another man appeared. This one also had brown hair but brown eyes instead of hazel. He walked with a heavy limp.

When he came Washburn had been removing his stitches. Panov greeted him, "Alex thank you for coming."

The man called Alex asked in a tone that spoke of disbelief, "Are you sure it's him? Mo he's been missing for almost a month now."

Panov said, "I also worked with David for three months. I think I would recognize my patient when I saw him."

The man called David tensed. He didn't like the sound of that man. Panov had treated him like a human being. Not like an animal in need of being put down. While there wasn't a lot of trust between them there was enough.

Washburn said softly, "Calm down, Mo won't let anything happen to you."

Grey eyes turned to look at the doctor. Part of him wanted to believe the man. A larger part was nervous about the one that had been called in. Given his amnesia he was taking cues from both doctors without making it obvious.

Panov obviously trusted this Conklin. The fact that he called him immediately was a clear indicator. Something that wasn't obvious at first was the man's nervousness. There was something more than what he was saying.

Washburn was equally as suspicious as David. He didn't take his eyes off of his work but David could feel it. The older doctor didn't trust the newest addition to the house.

When the new man entered surprise entered his brown eyes as they landed on David. He said, "You weren't kidding Mo. Nor were you mistaken. David we have been searching for you since you disappeared."

His eyes searched the man's brown ones. They held a coldness in them that he didn't understand. Why did this man have such cold eyes? It wasn't the same kind of coldness that he had. This was a cold of suspicion.

He said waving his hand towards his wounds, "Honestly I don't know where I have been. I don't even know who I am."

Beyond calling himself David in his head. It was the first tidbit of information he found out about himself. Even if deep down it didn't sit right with him. Something was better than nothing at this point.

They heard a ping in Washburn's office. In it held the man's old fax machine and computer. With any luck it would be his his DNA test. A squeeze to his uninjured shoulder was all he received before Washburn left. Now he was alone with the doctor and the CIA man.

As he was turning his head back to look at the agent he stopped. His thoughts had called Conklin a CIA man. How had he known that? Was it a memory?

He asked startling both men out of their own thoughts, "Are you a CIA officer?"

Conklin answered carefully, "I am. How would you know that if you don't have any memories?"

He answered bringing a hand to rub at his temples, "It's what my thoughts called you. I don't know why or how I know this."

Panov said nodding slightly, "It's not unusual for pieces of a memory to come to you. Even if it's just a word or a phrase. Alex I know how suspicious you are considering the circumstances. However condemning him for a crime he did not commit will not get you anywhere. David has no memories. It is amnesia and not faked like so many have tried to pass off."

Conklin sighed tiredly and turned away for a moment. It seemed the doctor had perceived what the problem was. It was surprising how much information Panov collected without asking a single question. To the amnesiac it was interesting to watch.

When Conklin turned back to him David was surprised. Some of the coldness had left his eyes. They weren't warm exactly but neither were they the cold eyes that they had been before.

Before anyone could say anything else Washburn returned. His face was pale nearly transparent with both fear and disbelief. In his hands was a sheet of paper. One that held his DNA results.

He asked eagerly, "What does it say?"

Washburn shook his head as he replied, "This can't be correct. They must have gotten your DNA mixed with someone else's. There is no way this could be true."

Carefully the blond man called David stood. What ever his doctor had seen spooked him. That did not bode well for the young amnesiac. Slowly so not to pull at his injuries that were still healing he moved to stand in front of Washburn. After a moments hesitation the other handed him the paper. It said.

Oliver Queen  
Sex: Omega Male  
Status: Declared dead no body found  
Mother: Moira Queen  
Sex: Omega female  
Status: Alive  
Father Biological: Malcolm Merlyn  
Sex: Alpha Male  
Status: Alive  
Father adopted: Robert Queen  
Sex: Alpha male  
Status: Declared dead no body found

David could only stare at the page dumbfounded. According to the paper he was Oliver Queen. Yet according to the doctor he was David Webb. Who was he really?

Panov moved slowly so not to startle him. The movement catching his eye made him watch the doctor closely. When he only took the paper from David or Oliver the blond let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. The more he tried to put it together the more his head ached. It got to the point where he had to sit back in the chair.

Washburn asked, "Mo what are we going to do? Even I heard about the Gambit going down years ago. On top of that he is an omega. That means the person who did the test will contact the alpha parent."

What did that mean? Did he know Malcolm Merlyn? Why did that name sound so familiar? There was something that wanted to break through the blocks.

The pressure in his head was nearly unbearable. Trying to figure out his identity was only making it worse. Yet he couldn't just leave it like this. He had to know the truth. Who was he?

Panov asked coldly to Conklin, "Did you know about this, Alex? Why didn't you say anything?"

Alex shrugged as he replied, "I was the one who gave him the new name. It was upon his request years ago back before his "death". Back then he was trying to escape a neglectful father. He became David Webb and a CIA intelligence officer."

He had been part of the CIA? Flashes went before his eyes. Pain erupted behind his eyes. Heat licked across his face as if he had been standing too close to a fire.

He heard, "Snake Lady to Delta. Come in Delta!"

There was silence. Then it came again, "Damn it! Someone answer me up there!"

Another voice broke through the haze of pain, "David look at me. Its okay David. You are safe."

Opening his eyes that he didn't know were closed he saw the hazel eyes. It was Panov. The pain didn't allow him to keep his eyes open. He tried pressing the heel of his right hand into his eye to alleviate the pain.

Panov took his hand gently to stop him. A soft whine escaped the young omega. Why wasn't the older omega helping him?

Panov said gently placing his hand on David's forehead, "Relax, David. This won't hurt."

A sense of calm that wasn't his own. Against his will his eyes closed and he knew no more.

Malcolm's POV

Despite his best efforts the plan to level the Glades had failed. It had only been pure luck that allowed him to escape suspicion. While the Dark Archer had lost against the Canary she had not unmasked him. This allowed him to continue to live as a free man. So far the League of Assassins had not tried to make contact either. That meant Ras didn't know about his attempt or was too busy to care. In all likelihood it was the former.

Instead of trying again he put it off. Something good came out of the wasted effort. His bond with Tommy had never been stronger. Tommy was running a good portion of the company now on his own.

All in all things had been well since his failed attempt. While the Canary didn't know who the Dark Archer was. Malcolm knew exactly who lay behind the mask. Though he would not threaten her unless there was no other choice.

Currently he was sitting behind his desk at Merlyn Global. So far things had been normal that day. Nothing out of the ordinary happened. His time in the League told him to be wary of such times. When your guard was down was when your enemy would strike.

He was startled by the phone next to him ringing. After letting it ring for a moment he picked it up.

In a cold tone he said, "Malcolm."

Now that Tommy worked for the company he couldn't just say Merlyn. People could be trying to reach his son. Or vice versa. The voice that spoke wasn't one such case.

A male voice asked, "Is this Malcolm Merlyn?"

He replied barely keeping the annoyance out of his voice, "It is. Who is this?"

The voice said, "This is Doctor Vale in Marsae. You see Mr. Merlyn I was asked to run a blood test to identify a living person. The doctor is an old friend of mine. While I wasn't given the specifics of why the person needed to be identified I do know this person is alive."

He forced himself to snap out a reply, "Doctor get to the point. I am a very busy man."

Doctor Vale said with an audible sigh, "Mr. Merlyn are you aware that you have an omega son?"

What? He knew for a fact that he did not in fact have an omega son. Tommy was an alpha like himself.

He growled, "Doctor Vale if this is some kind of trick to extort money from me you have made a grevious error. I only have one son and he is in fact an alpha. If you call again you will not like the consequences."

"Wait! The blood does not lie, Mr. Merlyn. By what you summitted when you applied for a passport your blood matches this omega. The other match is an omega. The child's name is Oliver Queen."

What?! Oliver was killed when the Gambit went down. Didn't he?

He considered it more. Sarah Lance had been on the boat with Oliver. While she said he died with Robert she could be lying. It wouldn't be the first time she lied since returning. Then again, why hide that Oliver was still alive? Didn't his family have the right to know?

It only took a moment for his anger to be directed at Moira. She had hidden his second son from him. His omega son. She would pay.

He asked barely keeping his anger in check, "Where can I find that doctor?"


	6. Missing memories part 2

A/N Thanks for your reviews and support.

white collar black wolf: Thanks for your review my friend. Glad you enjoyed it.

David's POV

An unknown amount of time passed before he woke up. His mind was calmer and his body felt heavy. The panic he previously felt was gone.

When he opened his eyes the first thing he noticed that it was darker out. By the small amount of light that filtered in through the window it was late afternoon. That meant he had been asleep for at least four hours.

Slowly he began to sit up. It had to be done carefully because his body was weak. The weakness wasn't just from the wounds he sustained. Whatever Panov had done to him made him weak.

As he was slowly getting to his feet he could hear voices. They were coming from the sitting room. He moved to listen at the door before he revealed that he awake.

Panov's voice filtered through the wood door as calm as ever, "Alex despite what you think. I believe it would be best for him to return with me. Unlike most he is a very real danger to those around him. While he is still wounded now when he heals there is a chance he could hurt someone."

Why would he be able to hurt someone? So far there was no indication that he was violent before. Then again he still remembered nothing of his past.

"What of his alpha father, Mo? If you leave with him now there is still the chance the man shows up here," came Washburn's voice.

David wanted to click his tongue but held back. The doctors might not hear it but that CIA agent would. If he had to make a quick exit he didn't want to risk alerting them that he was awake.

Conklin said sounding as if this wasn't the first time they had the argument, "There is a more important problem than some rich man trying to take David back. Say you take him back with you Mo and he wakes up. Not knowing where he is or who he is with could trigger a memory you can't handle. Especially if he wakes up on a plane. Do you really think you could handle, Delta? If you thought the Bourne personality was bad, it is nothing compared to Delta. Bourne didn't kill people. Delta wouldn't hesitate to."

David knew Conklin was talking about him. The way he was talking though it was as if he had other personalities. It also seemed as if Panov knew about the other personalities. Was that why the doctor knew him so well?

Another thing he noticed was that they wanted to take him away. The main land would have better medical care but he had the feeling that wasn't why. If anything it seemed to be because of these other personalities.

If that was true then he would likely end up in a psych ward. That was the last place he wanted to be. It was time to leave.

He moved away from the door and as he stepped back the floor creaked. He paused trying not to panic. Adrenaline kicked into his system. He was ready to fight his way out.

To his surprise however Panov continued speaking, "You must remember Alex. He isn't the first Medusan that I have treated. Its just a matter of how you treat them. Though I do believe for the plane ride..."

That was all he needed to hear. They either didn't hear the cream or thought it was nothing. This was good for him. It would give him a chance to escape before they noticed he was gone.

The window to his room was his only option to get out. Panov and the others were just outside. So going out the door wasn't an option.

His window opened easily without a sound. For a brief moment he hesitated. If he left now then he will be hunted. However if he stayed there then his future was uncertain. The last thing he wanted was to end up in a psych ward. Without any memories being on the run there was no telling where he would end up.

The hesitation passed however. It was now or never. Then out the window he went.

His bare feet touched the course sand and he took off down the beach. He began to run down the beach. His ears were listening for the sounds that he was being followed. Half way down the beach he realized that he wasn't being followed. It was a relief and he turned fully.

Part of him regretted not finding some shoes. There just wasn't time to find shoes or a jacket. The late afternoon wasn't cold out but it would have helped hide him.

He paused in his steps. Where had that thought come from? How did he know about trying to hide? Was this part of Bourne or Delta?

Something in him told him to keep running. That he wasn't in the clear until he was off this island. It made him keep moving faster. He had to find a way off the island. Papers and money could wait until he was off the island.

It didn't take him long to reach the small village. Members of the community were out and about. Some had come and gone from the clinic when he was there so they recognized him. He could see the surprise on their faces at seeing him out and about.

As he walked by they gave him a wide berth. There was no doubt in his mind that one of them would alert Washburn that they saw him in town. For the moment he ignored them instead focusing on making his way towards the harbor. A boat would be his best bet for getting off the island that night.

As he walked past one of the local bars he felt a hand grab his injured shoulder. While the hold wasn't painful but it was forceful. He spun on his heel and knocked the hand away.

The hand went away as he turned then a second was raised. It was a peaceful gesture. David looked at the person who grabbed him.

The person was a male a few inches shorter than him. He had black hair with spots of grey. He had a salt and pepper beard. His eyes were grey like the clouds. Or like his eyes as he had been told. There were only a few moments that he had seen his own eye color. They tended to be grey with just a hint of blue.

The man said in a gravelly voice, "Al Sahim."

What was with people and giving him new names? Like the previous names this meant absolutely nothing to him. This man however seemed familiar to him. He wasn't sure but the man was like him.

He asked carefully, "Who are you?"

The man cocked his head to the side examining him closer. This man knew him. Or at least he thought he did, David wasn't so sure however.

David took a moment to fully consider the man. He was wearing a dark grey shirt and black pants. A dark jacket was over the shirt. Despite not being able to see one he could feel that the man had some kind of weapon. Instinct told him a weapon you couldn't see was more dangerous than the one you could.

The man said sternly, "You know who I am, Al Sahim. Why are you here? Why are you not wearing shoes?"

David said taking a step away from the older man, "I don't know you. Don't touch me!"

The last words were shouted when the man reached out for him again. This drew the attention of the villagers. Some stepped forward to stop whatever was happening. Others watched waiting to see what would happen.

This wasn't true. Something in his mind was trying to dislodge. Pain erupted behind his eyes. A whimper passed his lips but it wasn't loud enough to be heard except by him and the strange man.

The man said growling now, "Hold, Al Sahim."

Those words dislodged the memory trying to come forth. Flashes went behind his eyes.

Flashback

Sparks flew as steel clashed against steel. In his right hand was a short sword that fit well into his hand. His hand was covered by a fitting glove. When his hands formed a fist the leather of the glove cracked.

A man stood across from him grey eyes watching David's every move. The only thing that could be see was the man's eyes. He wore a cowl that covered the other's face. He was a black Kevlar jacket. A sword sheath was belted across his left side.

David moved forward once more in attack form. Steel clashed against steel once more. The clanging got louder with each hit. Every hit got stronger with each passing moment.

As he was for an overhead strike he overstretched himself. His opponent saw the opening and struck. The strike was side stepped and as David went to recover the man attacked him. He was unable to recover in time to stop the side cut aimed at his left side.

The strike was made with the blunt side of the sword. Pain drove him to his knees. The sword was then at his throat. David stilled his eyes searching out the grey ones before him.

A baritone voice said from behind him, "Hold, Al Sahim and Al Owal."

A black haired man came from around David's side. He was wearing a dark green robe with a black shirt and dress pants. He walked with the heir of importance. Instinctively he knew this man was to be obeyed.

The man lifted David's sword hand and immediately he released the sword. In the next moment the sword was at his opponents throat. A hand motioned for him to rise.

Once he was standing the man said nodding slightly to his feet, "Do not let your footing betray you. Let the power come not from strength of your attack. But from the ground which holds your feet."

End of flashback

He snapped back to himself from the memory. It was only the second one he had so far. This one was far more vivid than the last. It gave him a name for the man in front of him.

He whispered still in shock, "Al Owal. That's your name, right?"

Grey eyes searched David's face. It was almost as if the man was trying to decipher a puzzle.

Al Owal said his gravelly voice sounding tired, "You truly don't remember me. What happened to you, Al Sahim? You left almost four months ago and we searched for you everywhere. Now I find you here..."

Anything else that would have been said was cut off by villagers. They yelling in French about David coming back to the doctor. Shit! It seemed that Washburn realized that he was gone. That didn't take as long as he had hoped.

Al Owal inquired sounding amused, "Friends of yours?"

"Nope and I can't exactly outrun an entire village currently."

No the exhaustion from whatever the doctor did to him was still affecting him. Which meant he needed to get somewhere he could rest.

Al Owal said noting how many were coming, "Well you could come with me. Otherwise it seems you will be stuck with them."

Going with the strange man or risk going to a mental hospital? Strange man it was. There wasn't a chance in hell he would risk being stuck in a psych ward. When he turned back to Al Owal the man hit him behind the neck.

The gravelly voice said as the world faded to black, "Whether you decided to come back with me or not I would have taken you. I have orders to return you. Ra's Al Ghul awaits your return. Sleep Al Sahim. When you wake you will be safe once more."


	7. Missing memories part 3

A/N Thanks for your reviews and support.

white collar black wolf: Thanks for your review my friend. Glad you enjoyed it.

David's POV

When he returned to consciousness his mind and body was sluggish. It took him several seconds to realize he had been drugged. The next thing he noticed was the taste of morning breath.

That had him a little more conscious than he was before. A few seconds later he noticed that he was laying on something soft. Not soft enough to be a bed but too hard to be the ground. Almost like the seat of a chair or the seat of a car.

When he sluggishly opened his eyes he had to close them again. It took several tries for him to be open without pain. When he did he saw a white ceiling. The air around him was cold and stale.

They were on a plane and for reasons he didn't understand he felt fear. It made his chest constrict with panic. A memory began to unwrap itself from his mind.

Flashback

Six men sat in the back of a helicopter. Each had varying rifles laid across their laps. They all had either grey or cold eyes. He stood off towards the front his back to the cockpit.

A storm raged around them knocking the copter left and right. It was a wonder he was able to remain standing. It was an even bigger wonder that he remained almost motionless during it. The only part of him moving was his eyes.

The current David was confused at what he was seeing. One the David that was standing was young. Far too young to have joined the army. He couldn't have been older than seventeen. That was too young to be a member of the military.

A voice said from the cockpit, "Delta, this is Snake Lady. Come in Delta."

The younger version of him barely glanced back into the cockpit. Then his attention was back to the men. One was brown haired man who watched him with curiosity. The curiosity flickered held just a hint of fear. It was the fear that made the older man with no memory pause. What could make someone look like that at a child?

The man asked carefully, "Delta are you not going to answer that?"

Another name? Why was there so many names that he went by? David, Oliver, Delta, Al Sahim. What was the real him? Or was he just a mix of all these identities?

His younger self replied coldly, "No. They want us to turn back. Away from Almanac. We cannot leave him to die, Echo."

Echo glanced back at the rest before shrugging. The men seemed to accept his words without complaint. Almost like they had gone through this before.

End of flashback

That had him trying to gain his feet. Only to find himself unable to move more than a feet from the seat he was in.

A gravelly voice said mfrom behind him, "Easy, Al Sahim. You are still recovering from the blow."

David growled angrily as he turned to face Al Owal, "You knocked me out. Who the hell are you? Where are you taking me?"

The grizzly bearded man sat behind his seat. In his hands was a file folder faced so that he couldn't see what was on it.

He said with a sigh, "Al Sahim, you know my name. Al Owal, The First. I am taking you home. Back to the brothers and sisters that you left behind. To Nanda Parbat."

There was an echo of a memory. A fortress hidden in the desert. A place where few dare to venture. Whether because of the the legends. Or because of what they knew was there.

What was it? What was there that made so many people fear it? He didn't understand.

The name didn't strike fear into his heart. Instead there was a sense of belonging. A memory of home that he didn't have. Something tugged in his mind. Kind grey eyes.

Another voice said from behind him, "Leave him alone, Al Owal. Let his alpha deal with it."

Turning as much as he could without putting his back to Al Owal he saw a new man. He had brown hair and piercing green eyes. Like when he met Al Owal he felt like he knew him. There was something truly familiar about him.

David said trying to remember the man's name, "I know you."

He winced as a pain went through his skull. No memory came with it only pain. It grew to the point he had to sit back in the seat.

The brown haired man said moving to stand next to him, "You do know me, Al Sahim. I would recommend you leave your questions until we arrive. We will be landing soon."

Landing? In the desert? That wasn't exactly the safest thing he heard of. Then again he felt no fear from the words. Almost like it was normal for him. There were no windows in the plane for him to see where they were. Or where they were going.

They fell into a silence. David was lost in his thoughts. His past made very little sense to him. If he could not work it out he knew instinctively that someone would kill him. If not here then elsewhere.

It seemed only like a few seconds when the plane jolted and they landed. The jolt sent panic coursing through his system. He didn't know where he was. A burning sensation creeped up his face. It was like he was standing to close to an open flame.

When a hand went under his arm he jerked back. Without looking he struck out at the person. The strike was blocked and his arm twisted behind his back. His body was then pressed into the wall of the plane.

A scent that calmed his need to fight filled his nose. It was like the scorched desert plains. Solid and strong.

The cool voice that was Al Sayf said, "Don't fight me, Al Sahim. We are almost home. Don't fight me."

That combined wirh the familiar scent brought him out of his memory. He sagged into the grip. What had he done that made him like this?

He was pulled to the front if the plane where the door was. The coolness of the plane immediately left the moment he was brought outside. It took several seconds for him to clear his vision. The sudden sunlight had blinded him.

This allowed Al Sayf to pull him down and out of the plane. When his vision recovered his first thought was that it was strategically sound place. The mountains covered the landscape. Any one trying to invade the spot would have a difficult time. His next thought was that it felt too familiar. Maybe there was some truth to what the men had said. That he did know them.

He was then ushered down what appeared to be a path. It wasn't noticeable at first. Only someone who spent time in the sands would recognize it.

Twenty minutes of walking had him breathing hard. He wasn't fully healed yet. That made it harder for him to try and keep up.

After what seemed to be an eternity they finally stopped. David looked up and was stunned by what he saw. A fortress that seemed more like a castle was built into the side of a mountain. A sense of home and belonging filled him. It was like a part of him he didn't know was empty was filled.

He said breathlessly, "It feels as if I have returned home from a long trip. What is this place to me?"

Al Owal answered pushing lightly on his shoulder to get him moving again, "You were gone for almost four months Al Sahim. You only made contact once during that time. That was just under a month ago."

David frowned. Just under a month previous was when he was pulled from the ocean water. At the time he had been barely alive. If the captain didn't take him to Washburn when he did David would have died. Even if the doctor brought trouble to him by bringing Panov in.

Panov... the doctor seemed to genuinely interested in helping him. The thing he had done to calm David's mind was worrying. Still the man had only done it once. Panov could have done it at any time before the stiches were taken out. Despite that he didn't. He should have thought the escape through better. It was too late for regrets now however.

David soon found himself in front of the doors to the fortress. His breath was taken away at the sight. The doors were interictly carved. Looking at them made him feel small and insignificant.

They opened when Al Sayf pushed on the door. People in black Kevlar jackets and hoods with cowls hiding their faces. Each had different kinds of weapons. Variations of swords lay at their hips. While some had knives across their backs. It was interesting to see the different weaponry. Though it did make him wonder. Did he know how to use them? If so why?

Just like with everything else he didn't get much time to examine. Instead he was pushed down the maze of hallways. He did breath in the scents however. Like Al Sayf's scent they were calming and varied.

Finally they stood in front of a large set of doors. Al Owal pushed him through them but didn't follow. The doors shut behind him leaving him in an unknown room.

Instinct forced that he didn't know existed him to examine the room carefully. Across from him on the far wall was torches. The firelight gave the room flickering shadows that set him on edge.

Still his eyes took in every inch of the room. To his right was a long table and wooden benches on either side of it. At the head of the table was a large wooden chair. Past there was a set of doors. He knew if he were to try and leave through them the consequences would not be pleasant.

To his left was a fireplace that a warm fire lit in it. It gave a warmer feeling than the torches. He could feel himself calming slightly.

His breathing began to slow as he stared into the firelight. A memory began to rise to the surface. This time it didn't bring pain with it.

Flashback

David sat by a small fire in a forest he couldn't identify. He wore a black jacket and black pants. He wasn't much older than the last memory. Though he did seem injured. Ribs and lower abdomen on the right side. It made it difficult to see the blood that saturated his younger version's side.

The man called Echo tapped his shoulder. Turning the younger David looked at the other. In the man's hands were bandages and a bottle of alcohol.

He said nodding to the side, "Shirt off, Delta. We can't let that wound get infected."

David sighed but began unbuttoning his jacket. It only took a few seconds for him to shrug it off followed by his white undershirt. He stared stoically into the fire as alcohol was poured over the wound. There wasn't even a wince as it was cleaned and wrapped.

End of flashback

Coming back to himself was hard. That memory showed that someone cared about him. There wasn't a way to track that person down. All he had was a fake name. Echo. A name he didn't understand. Just like how Conklin had called him Delta.

Though he didn't hear anything he felt as if he was being watched. Sniffing the air he tried to figure out who was watching him. The scent was familiar but he couldn't put a name to it. It was like a forest bathed in moonlight. It made the omega in him purr with contentment.

Turning he saw a black haired man with grey eyes watching him. He was wearing a forest green robe with a black button down shirt and black dress pants. It took him a long moment to realize that this was the man from one of his previous flashbacks.

The man said breathlessly, "Oliver..."


	8. Nanda Parbat part 1

A/N Thanks for your reviews and support.

white collar black wolf: Thanks for your review my friend. Glad you enjoyed it.

Ra's POV

Since receiving word from Al Owal that he had Oliver the older man spent his time pacing. Through Ra's bond with the omega he could sense that the other was unconscious. It was a comfort knowing that Oliver was at least safe.

His duties were completed early the next day in preparation for Oliver's return. There were so many questions that he had for his omega. Al Owal didn't give him any information on the young man. Just that he found him and was returning.

He was in the meeting hall when Al Sayf came in. The green eyed man waited in the corner for Ra's to be done. He was issuing new missions to some of his men. There was a report of Carlos the Jackel being spotted in Marsae. If he was to die they had to get someone there immediately.

As soon as he dismissed them Al Owal bowed as he came forward. He said, "My liege, Al Sahim is in the dinning room. Currently Al Owal is watching the door so that he doesn't try to disappear again."

Ra's asked his worry clear in his grey eyes, "How is he? Has he given a reason why he left?"

For the first time in many years the older man looked unsure. Al Sayf was named The Sword back when the previous Ra's Al Ghul led the League. It was a title sought after by many but few could handle it.

The Sword was a member of the League that never took a mate. Alpha or Omega they were forever without a mate. Even Ra's could take a mate if that was his wish. Could and did take a mate.

Al Sayf answer chilled him, "He has several newly healed wounds. They are still painful and while the stitches were removed he isn't fully healed. My liege, the man that may not be the same that returned. Even in a short period of time he has changed greatly. Even his scent has changed to some degree."

Ra's asked forcing himself to stay calm, "Do we know what caused the wounds?"

Al Sayf replied calmly though his eyes were blazing with anger, "Gunshot by their appearance. By my estimate just after he called you."

Ra's accepted the information as he stood and said, "I'm going to speak with my wayward omega. I suggest that both yourself and Al Owal get some rest. It seem the Jackel is on the move again. If we get a concrete lead on him one of you will be taking the mission."

Al Sayf simply bowed his head in acknowledgment. With that Ra's left heading down the hallways to the dinning room. Al Owal bowed when he appeared and moved away from the door. Despite being one of his most trusted assassins the man never took his position for granted. Instead chose to always bow his head and say my liege, even when they were alone. It was his choice and Ra's respected it.

Entering the dinning room he almost thought Oliver had escaped again. Unused to seeing his omega in white he had overlooked the young man. It wasn't until he saw the young man scent the air that he realized it was Oliver. Turning the blond haired man looked at him. There was confusion in his grey blue eyes.

Ra's said breathlessly, "Oliver..."

He scented the air as well and was surprised by what he found. Al Sayf wasn't wrong when he said the young omega's scent had changed. Oliver's scent was like a dark forest in fall before he left. Now it was rain falling in late fall.

What worried the older man was the grey blue eyes. He thought they had fixed that a year after Oliver joined the League. What could have happened to bring it back out in the omega?

Oliver asked his words tearing at Ra's heart, "Who are you? Why do I feel like I know you? God damnit! Who am I?!"

Ra's felt the other's confusion and panic. There wasn't a chance Oliver was lying to him. The pain in his eyes was too real to be a lie.

Ra's rumbled softly trying to sooth his pained omega. The young man flinched back. His eyes darted around trying to figure his chances for escape.

Holding out his hands to show that he meant no harm he said, "Your name is Oliver Queen. Almost five years ago my daughter brought you here. You were broken by the experiences you had. We mended you mind and gave you a place to belong. Four months ago you disappeared without a word. No one could find you or even knew where you would go. We checked with Starling City where your family lives and you weren't there. We checked many of your old safe houses and places you would hide in during a mission."

Blue grey eyes watched him warily. They were trying to discern if his words were the truth or another lie. Ra's pushed his feelings of love and comfort across their bond. The man reacted as if he never felt the bond before. He stumbled back away from the alpha. His eyes wild with fear.

Oliver asked, "What was that? Those feelings weren't mine? What is happening to me?"

It hit Ra's like a pile of bricks. Oliver hadk amnesia and couldn't remember who he was. Or the life he led. That was why he was so confused.

Ra's asked his voice low and soothing, "What happened to you, Oliver? Let's start with what you know and food. Then I will try to answer your questions."

Behind Oliver some of his cooks came in carrying food. Not everyone in Nanda Parbat was a killer. Some were just looking to put their past behind them. Even if they couldn't bring themselves everyone was given a purpose.

Oliver swung around and Ra's could feel his agitation and distrust through their bond. The young man demanded suddenly, "How do I know I can trust you? You could be like Panov and Conklin. They wanted to put me in a mental hospital!"

Ra's hid a wince. He heard the name Conklin once. It was not long after he began courting the omega. One night during a nightmare the boy was shouting the name along with other things. It came out in fast Vietnamese but Ra's wasn't fluent enough to translate it all. What he did hear chilled him.

"Conklin! I need... get me there!"

Entire sentences he was unable translate. Other times it was just words. When Ra's was able to wake the young man up he refused to speak of it. Instead choosing to leave and practice his sword skills.

Despite his curiosity he never pushed for answers. Instead he accepted that there were somethings Oliver wasn't comfortable telling him. There were just somethings not spoken about.

Ra's said softly but firmly, "Sit down, Oliver. I know you're confused and scared. I know you want answers but you need to eat. Then we will talk."

Oliver looked back at him and for a moment Ra's thought he would refuse. Then slowly the boy moved towards the table. His eyes never leaving Ra's.

David's POV

His head hurt more than when he had flashbacks. There were so many names that people were giving him. Not one of them was triggering any memories. Then there was the emotions he kept feeling. He knew they weren't his own but he didn't know where they were coming from. Or why this man kept giving him strange looks.

Still he listened to the man when he was told to sit. At first he wanted to ignore it but he was hungry. The last time he ate was lunch at Washburn's house.

As soon as both he and the alpha sat plate were put down in front of them. David didn't recognize the dishes but the scents were familiar. He was sure they were some kind of fish and chicken. The vegetables were roasted with spices that he couldn't identify.

The alpha spoke up before David could decide what to eat, "You typically favor the chicken over the fish. After spending a year on Lian Yu you couldn't stand to look at fish when you first arrived. If it was fish that night you would eat only the vegetables."

The man hesitated as if he wanted to say more. Instead he held his silence watching David. David reached out and took one of the chicken legs and put it on his plate along with vegetables. If he needed to escape later he would need to keep his strength up.

When he took a bite of the leg the meat practically melted in his mouth. The smokey flavor hit his tongue and he relaxed slightly. The food was familiar to him in an instinctive level. At least he knew that the memories weren't false. This place was at one time home to him. At the very least he spent a lot of time here. The only question he had was why leave? What would have pulled him from the castle?

Once he was done with his chicken David said, "A little over three weeks ago I woke up in a small cottage on the island of Port Noir. I was brought in by a small fishing boat that found me floating in the water. The local doctor treated my wounds the best he could. When I woke I found that I didn't have any memories. There's feelings and half memories that come out of nowhere but nothing more. The doctor called an old friend of his to come look at me. When he arrived I thought maybe he could help recover my memories. He called someone else. They knew who I was but I couldn't remember them."

Even now when he tried to remember all it brought was pain. He didn't even know which was his real identity. David or Oliver? Both had people that knew them.

The alpha said after a moment, "Compared to the time some people have known you. I have only known you are short time. We first met four almost five years ago as I said. My daughter found you on the Lian Yu. There you were starving and were looking to escape. Despite having the chance to go home you chose to come here. I was fascinated by you at first. You were barely more than a boy and already you had been through so much. Most of which you wouldn't talk about."

Eagerly he listened to the man speak about him. The words didn't trigger a memory but they rang true. So he listened eager to learn about himself.


	9. Nanda Parbat part 2

A/N Thanks for your reviews and support.

white collar black wolf: Thanks for your review my friend.

Unknown's POV

After listening to the man's experiences with him. It was different than the others trying to bring out his memories. Instead it was about how he touched lives in these halls.

He couldn't remember any of it but he was more comfortable with it. At least he was more comfortable with that part of him than trying to put together Webb's identity. There was something that the doctor and Conklin weren't telling him. They it seemed were too frightened to even consider it.

They had given him rooms in the highest part of the living areas. Most people would have felt uncomfortable being so high off the ground. He loved it. There was a window that he could stick his out of but that was it. The cool night air felt familiar. Despite not having memories he knew that this place was somewhere locked in his mind.

The leader Ra's if he remembered correctly was kinder than he expected. There was a sense of pain in his grey eyes. It came with a sense that he was holding back. Oliver Queen it seemed had a lot of secrets and pain. It made the man without memories wonder if he really wanted to know.

The room that they put him in was nice; far nicer than the one he originally woke up in three weeks prior. The bed in the corner was a queen sized. On the left corner was a wardrobe. When he opened it there was a bunch of shirts and pants. There was the kind of Kevlar suit that he had seen the members wearing in it as well.

He chose a black t-shirt and black pyjama bottoms. They were soft to the touch and fit him well. He had just finished pulling his shirt over his head when a knock resoundrd at his door. Curious he opened it.

The man, Al Sayf stood there his green eyes, taking in the younger's appearance. He said after a moment, "I see you have found your clothes. How are you wounds?"

He said rubbing his side, "My side continues to pull muscle wise but it's healing. This was my room?"

Al Sayf nodded as he replied, "That's to be expected with the wounds you sustained. Yes, these were your rooms for a short time before you moved in with your alpha."

Alpha? Then he bit his lip to keep from making a sound. He could feel his head throb angrily. A memory was trying to resurface.

Alpha, Bravo, Charlie, Delta, Echo, Foxtrot, Gamma. Medusa where names mean nothing. Cain is for Charlie. Delta is for Cain.

Al Sayf asked his voice breaking through the pain, "Al Sahim... Al Sahim... Oliver!"

Grey eyes shot up to meet green. There was just a hint of worry in the older man's eyes. His head was pounding and he could barely think.

"Oliver focus on me. That's it, pup. Focus on me. Get Ra's. Now!"

Another memory was pushing itself forward drowning out the man's voice.

Flashback

The blond haired man stood next to a tree. A field of wild flowers were dying as fall came in. It was the unknown man. He looked much as he did in the present. Only a few differences that only someone who stared at the face every day would notice.

His eyes were blue instead of the grey that he knew. There were fewer stress lines but it seemed that he was waiting on some thing. As well as avoiding something.

There was a ringing sound. The unmistakable sound of a phone call. Immediately he answered it.

He practically growled out, "Webb."

The voice he recognized as Alex Conklin said, "Now don't be like that, David. You know I wouldn't call you if it wasn't important."

The blond sighed his gaze softening as he said, "I know, Alex. It's just... this isn't a good time. So what do you want? I don't have long before someone comes looking for me."

Conklin sighed, "David we have been working on putting together a killer for the last three years. One who has claimed kills to make a name for himself. To openly defy another and draw him out. Now we need a face and someone who can challenge him not just on paper. But in the field. You were the best man to ever come out of Medusa. If there was ever a time we need you. It's now."

The unknown man asked confusion etching itself into his face, "Alex what are you saying? Who are you going after that you can't use your own operatives?"

Alex stated simply, "Because every man we sent after him has died. We are trying to kill the Jackel and we need Delta once more."

End of flashback

The scent of forest bathed in moonlight drew him slowly out of the memory. It was the scent that made him feel safe. A soft rumble calmed him further. It wasn't until the man spoke that he realized who brought him out of the memory.

"What happened, Al Sayf?"

Oliver opened his eyes noting that Ra's was on a knee before him. Grey eyes however were not looking at him but at the other man.

Al Sayf answered his gaze turning to the blond, "I'm not sure, my liege. If I had to guess then something I said triggered a memory. What did I trigger, Oliver?"

Oliver answered deciding to use the name for the moment, "Alpha. It triggered a set of words. They didn't make any sense. Alpha, Bravo, Charlie, Delta, Echo, Foxtrot, Gamma. Medusa where names mean nothing. Cain is for Charlie. Delta is for Cain. What does any of that mean?"

Ra's and Al Sayf exchanged glances as if deciding what to tell him. They knew something. Those words meant something to them. It could be the next key in unlocking his memory.

He growled, "What is it? This could be the key to unlocking my memory."

Ra's was the one who answered, "Over the last few years we have been tracking a new killer. A man by the name of Jason Bourne. We don't know much about him. What we do know is that phrase was one of his call ins. Also that he was trying to out do Carlos the Jackel. How do you know that? It shouldn't be possible yet you know it."


	10. Nanda Parbat part 3

A/N Thanks for your reviews and support.

white collar black wolf: Thanks for your review my friend.

Unknown's POV

No matter what they said they couldn't trigger another memory. There was a danger in it but they wanted to know why. Why he knew about this killer known as Bourne? Was he in fact that killer?

Even that wouldn't be possible. From what Al Sayf said he only disappeared a few months ago. Bourne had been killing for years. Though if his flashback was to be believed it could still be him. That was something he kept to himself though.

Eventually the two alphas left him to sleep. The bed in his room was surprisingly comfortable. Despite his nerves he fell into a slumber.

Dreamscape

Blinding light as the flare ignited, firing the jungle, lighting up the trees and the walls, the hidden paths and the mahogany corridors. The stench of death and the jungle was everywhere, and he was there.

Almanac to Delta. Almanac to Delta. Abandon, abandon! Never. Not now. Not at the end.

Cain is for Carlos and Delta is for Cain. Trap Carlos. Kill Carlos!

Madness. The explosions were all around him now, blinding, deafening, punctuated by ear-splitting screeches from the jungle that erupted with each detonation.

The jungle! Tam Quan! The wet, hot stench was everywhere, but they had reached it! The base camp was theirs! An explosion to his left; he could see it!

High above the ground, suspended between two trees, the spikes of a bamboo cage. The figure inside was moving. He was alive! Get to him, reach him!

A cry came from his right. Breathing, coughing in the smoke, a man was limping toward the dense underbrush, a rifle in his hand. It was him, the blond hair caught in the light, a foot broken from a parachute jump.

The bastard! A piece of filth who had trained with them, studied the maps with them, flown north with them … all the time springing a trap on them! A traitor with a radio who told the enemy exactly where to look in that impenetrable jungle that was Tam Quan.

It was Bourne! Jason Bourne. Traitor, garbage! Get him! Don't let him reach others! Kill him! Kill Jason Bourne! He is your enemy! Fire! He did not fall! The head that had been blown apart was still there. Coming toward him! What was happening? Madness. Tam Quan …

End of dreamscape

The man without memories or an identity sat straight up in the bed. His heart was pounding in his ears. Frantic eyes searched the room for the threat.

Cautiously he raised a hand to his forehead to wipe off the sweat. What was with that dream? It was worse than his nightmares when he was at Washburn's cottage.

He knew that he would be unable to go back to sleep. The room he was in had sparse furniturings. Nothing would be able to keep his attention for long. He quickly changed into a light pants that loosely fit him.

Opening the door he found it unguarded. For all of the trouble they went to, to get him there. He half expected the door to be guarded. A pleased sigh left him. If worst came to worst he could ask someone to help him back to his room.

Choosing to go left he made his way down the hall. If it was true that he spent time in this place he should let his feelings guide him. Washburn told him that instinct remains where memories were gone. So he followed his instinct.

It led him down several hallways until he reached a door. It was the same as the dozens of doors that he passed before. Pushing it open he was surprised to find an archery range on one end of the room. On the other was a rack of different kinds of swords. It was completely empty.

Almost as if in a trance he walked to the rack of bows. There was one in particular that was different from the other's. The others were various compound metal bows and recurves. The one that caught his attention was not metal. It was made out of wood and was hand crafted.

Something about the bow was familiar. He reached out for the bow and took it gently into his hands. The weight was familiar and he instinctively drew back the string.

The weight of the draw pulled at his wounds. It also unlocked something within his mind.

Flashback

The helicopter they were in was a hastily put together pilot and team. There were only a handful that would go out in this weather. It was near typhoon wind speeds and the rain was coming down hard. None of this interested or dissuaded Delta.

His brother was in the encampment below. If they did not rescue him now they would never get a second chance. Almanac was down there and they would kill him for the information he carried. Something that Delta could not allow to happen.

One of the pilots shouted over the wind, "Delta if you're going to jump it has to be now! Know that we won't be able to do a pick up on you guys!"

Delta shouted in return, "Got it! We will see you back at camp! Century 12 get your asses up and prepare to jump! Alpha you are first!"

The dark haired man closest to the door stood. Alpha was also known as Jason Bourne. He was one of the few that didn't fear giving his name out to the other members.

The others took their positions behind him. Each had their packs and weapons strapped to them. Grey eyes stared at him just like his own. They were killers from all different backgrounds. They followed him because he was their leader. Nothing more nothing less.

When the door to the copter opened and wind ripped passed them. It tore at each of their faces. A minute later the red light above their heads turned green. A nod to him and they began jumping from the copter.

Echo was the last one to jump out. His eyes met Delta's waiting for the final confirmation. He gave an ever so slight nod. It was enough for his second in command. The Frenchman jumped from the copter.

For half a second Delta hesitated. Then he jumped as well heading into the unknown. Most parts of the world were familiar no matter the weather. Tam Quan was different than most parts of the world. In the best weather it was difficult to traverse and land in. This weather was one of the worst that someone could attempt a parachute. There were Medusan teams that tried before and failed. So many had lost their lives trying something so dangerous. There wasn't a choice however. One of their own was captured and coud die.

By the time he counted to ten he pulled his chute. The jolt made his shoulder ache. Below him he could see his men with their own open chutes.

The wind tore at his face making it hard to see. The air smelled of fire and smoke. It signified that they were near one of the compounds. Specifically the one that held Almnac in it.

A harsh wind blew him several degrees off course. It took some maneuvering and quick thinking that he didn't end up too far north. A few minutes passed before he dropped to the ground.

As soon as his chute was detached he took stock of his surroundings. One of his men was stuck by his chute in a tree. It was Gamma by the looks of it. The man was never the best at landings. Already Echo and Charlie were up in the tree cutting him down. Bravo and Foxtrot were securing the parameter.

The only one missing was Alpha. Out of all of his men he would've expected that Alpha would make it into the drop zone.

He called up to Echo, "I'm going to find, Alpha. Stay here secure the drop zone. I'll be back."

"Yes, Delta."

Without another word he began walking towards the North. If Alpha was blown off course that's where the wind would have taken him. The smells of the forest calmed his fire just as it always had done. Unlike his men he felt oddly at peace with being in a forest. It was the one place he felt at home in. Even as a child he felt more at home in the woods than in the city. That was probably what made him such a good Circus brat.

Years of running around in the forests allowed him to move silently but swiftly. He was able to avoid branches that would have broken under his weight. Thorns that would have torn his shirt he avoided with skilled ease. His fine tuned hearing picked up a voice slightly east of him. It was easy to change the direction towards the voice.

Delta came close to the where the voice coming from. What he saw made his blood boil. One of their radios was in Alpha's hands. He was speaking in clear Vietnamese. It was about the location of their drop. That wasn't the only thing he was saying either. He was saying who they were trying to save.

Delta stepped out his glock drawn and pointed at Alpha. The man stiffened the moment he saw Delta. Fear was written all over the other's face. It filled the air so much he could almost taste it. If this was anyone else he would have relished in it. He couldn't bring himself to however. This was one of his men, one that he trusted for years. Now he found out that Alpha was betraying them. There was only one sentence for such a betrayal.

Alpha said in English his hands shaking with fear, "Delta, this isn't what it looks like. Listen..."

There wasn't anything left for him to hear. No excuses could be made for what he did. Delta took aim and fired.

As always his aim was true. The bullet passed through Alpha's skull. This blew brain matter and blood all across the tree behind the man. The tree was painted red with his blood and brains.

With little regard to the blood and brain matter he moved closer to the bloody. Bending to a knee he fished under the deadman's jacket until he found his dogtags. It didn't give names or any nationality but it did give his callsign and squad assignment. Even if the man was a traitor the family didn't deserve to not know what happened to their loved one.

Pulling until the chain broke he put the dogtags in his own jacket pocket. With that done he turned back towards the direction he came from. They would be down a man but that wouldn't stop them from achieving their goal. They had to save Almanac.

End of flashback

Delta? That name... It hurt think of that name. There was something in that memory. Why was it triggered by him picking up a bow?

Shaking his head he picked up an arrow. Would he be able to shoot straight? Was the flashback something of his own? Or would it be proven wrong?

He nocked the arrow and drew it back between his index and middle finger so that his thumb touched his cheek. The wounds pulled and he winced in pain. To relieve the stress upon his wounds he released the arrow.

To his surprise it flew true and only missed his target by a few inches. He lowered the bow. Rubbing at his side to try and relieve the pain. What kind of person had these skills? Who was he?


	11. Nanda Parbat part 4

A/N Thanks for your your reviews and support.

white collar black wolf:Thanks for your review my friend.

Unknown's POV

A cough from behind him drew his attention. Al Owal stood in the door way. To his surprise the man was not in his League uniform.

Al Owal wore a black button down shirt. His pants were those of the League uniform.

Just as when they met in Port Noir the man's eyes were calm. Al Owal had a grizzly beard the was dotted with grey. The man without memories felt that he was a calming presence.

Al Owal said in a low tenor, "Your skills have not diminished in your time away, Al Sahim. How are your wounds?"

The younger man replied ducking his head, "They don't hurt."

The other man nodded. He moved to where the sword lay. The unknown man watched as he picked up two swords. Al Owal flipped one around so that the hilt faced him. He took it carefully watching the assassin.

It was like a light switch was flipped when the other attack. The movements were slower than he expected. He brought his sword into a high guard.

The two swords clashed loudly against each other. He took a step back disengaging from the attack. Again Al Owal came at him slowly giving him time to react. Again his body moved without his consent.

He parried the strike and struck out with his own attack. It was a basic strike and one that was blocked easily.

Al Owal praised low and calming, "Good, Al Sahim. Again."

He didn't respond instead continued to block the assassin's attacks. Each attack was slow and precise. Each block and parry he did in turn was slow.

This continued for several moments. The unknown man could feel that everything he did was ingrained into him. Instinct and muscle memory that had not faded. His body knew what his mind did not.

Slowly but surely the movements began to pick up speed. Sparks began to fly as the strikes became faster and faster. The man without memories became in tune with the muscle memory.

The rhythm of the attacks were comfortable to him. Somewhere, sometime, he had done this before.

A voice rang out one that both he and Al Owal instinctively obeyed, "  
Shaghal mansibik, Al Sahim."

Hold you position, Arrow. Their swords were crossed at the hilt. Both he and Al Owal stayed exactly where they were.

A scent of forest bathed in moonlight came up behind him. It was comforting and he didn't react when the man pressed his elbows slightly in. There was slight adjustments to his stance. They were made gently but firmly.

Al Owal said bowing his head to the older alpha, "His skill has not decreased in his time away my liege. Mistakes and openings in his stance are minimum. Almost as if he never left the League."

Ra's Al Ghul walked so that he stood between the alpha and omega. He adjusted the unknown's wrist bending it slight more inwards. The strain on his wrist that he didn't know was there eased.

Ra's replied in a rumbling timbre, "I can see that. You did well for not handling a sword in quite some time, Al Sahim. Despite not having memories you heeded my call to hold your position."

The unknown man bowed his head in reply. A warmth spread through him at the praise. Something in the back of his mind twitched. Ra's looked at him with a strange look.

Was the feeling from the bond between him and Ra's? According to the man they were bonded. That was why he could feel some of the other's feelings.

Al Owal moved back his head bowing to the older alpha as he said, "By your leave, my liege, I will retire. Al Sahim should you feel up to it we can train more in the afternoon."

The younger man nodded in return. If possible he would meet with the alpha. Ra's nodded his head and the other man took his leave.

"Did you remember anything?" Came the soft question.

For the leader of the League of Assassins this man was unusually kind. Was it because he was the man's omega? Or was it because he didn't remember anything?

From what he understood he as Al Sahim or Oliver Queen had abandoned his duties. Duties that he swore to do and rules to uphold. The question on everyone's mind was why. Why had he left? It wasn't one he could even give an answer to. Names and words came to him without rhyme or reason.

Instead he shook his head as he said, "No still nothing in the way of a memory. Nothing concrete from my past either. Names and faces with impressions that don't make sense."

The alpha sighed, "Amnesia is a tricky process. We don't have mind healers in the League for a reason. Most of the time our way of helping is teaching you how to be stronger and act as a team works. It allows the burdens of the past to melt away. That doesn't mean it works for everyone. Just those who make it through the initiate stage."

Just like Panov and Washburn told him on the island. Every case was different. There wasn't anything normal about amnesia. Nothing that could be put into words.

All he wanted was to know who he was. Was that so wrong?

A warm hand touched his shoulder causing the younger man to turn and look at the alpha. There was pain in his grey eyes but there was also understand. Ra's wanted him to remember. To remember what they meant to each other. To remember who he was.

The man without an identity wanted to know more than anything. At the same time he was scared. Scared that who he was, wasn't what he thought.

Ra's hand pushed him slightly forward and they began the treck back to his room. The trip was made in almost complete silence.

The man without an identity noted that there were guards following them. Despite Ra's seemingly to be at ease with his presence many others were not. Was it because of his lack of memories? Or something more?

Once back to his room Ra's said, "Try to rest, Oliver. It's been a long day for you. We will get you in the morning for breakfast. After that we can decide what to do."


	12. Zurich part 1

A/N thanks for your reviews and support.

dogman999: thanks for your review my friend. I'm glad you enjoy it so much.

Unknown's POV

Sleep did not come easily. When it did it was restless leaving the man without memories more tired than before. As promised however a knock sounded on his door.

The man called out, "Come in."

Ra's came in. He was wearing the same clothes as the night before. His grey eyes searched the unknown's own grey eyes. There was a gentleness in the gaze. Even knowing that the man was his alpha he didn't understand it.

Ra's said noting the omega's attire, "Come, it's time for breakfast."

The man followed without question. Even without his guide the omega instinctively knew each turn. No memories but the layout remained ingrained into him. It was obvious he spent a considerable amount of time here.

When they arrived at a dining area he waited for Ra's to sit before following suit. Even with everything that had been revealed he wasn't entirely comfortable with the man.

Fruits and various other foods came in with different men and women. They bowed their heads towards the alpha but said nothing. A young beta woman glanced briefly at him. Her stoic facade cracked slightly with an upturn of her lips.

She knew him. It seemed that he was well known throughout the halls. Not just by the assassins but by everyone. Was it because he was Ra's omega?

Ra's said sensing his disquiet, "You were and still are well respected here, Oliver. Most of the League knows of your skill. Most know of your kindness. Here you are the shining light within the darkness."

The man bowed his head in acceptance. He didnt feel like a light though. There was a lot of darkness in his heart.

Ra's said his eyes trying to catch the unknown man's, "Everyone has darkness inisde them. As you learned when you first came to us, it is what you do with it that counts. We will help you through this and with any luck regain your memories."

The man without memories knew there was something he was forgetting. Something that was beyond this place. The ones that had come for him on the island knew it. He just needed to find out what it was.

3rd person's POV

The stooped old man in the threadbare overcoat, black beret in hand, walked down the far left aisle of the country church in the village of Arpajon, ten miles south of Paris. The bells of the evening Angelus echoed throughout the upper regions of stone and wood; the man held his place at the fifth row and waited for the ringing to stop.

It was his signal; he accepted it, knowing that during the pealing of the bells another, younger man—as ruthless as any man alive—had circled the small church and studied everyone inside and outside. Had that man seen anything he did not expect to see, anyone he considered a threat to his person, there would be no questions asked, simply an execution. That was the way of Carlos, and only those who understood that their lives could be snuffed out because they themselves had been followed accepted money to act as the assassin's messenger.

They were all like himself, old men from the old days, whose lives were running out, months remaining limited by age, or disease, or both. Carlos permitted no risks whatsoever, the single consolation being that if one died in his service—or by his hand—money would find its way to old women, or the children of old women, or their children.

It had to be said: there was a certain dignity to be found in working for Carlos. And there was no lack of generosity. This was what his small army of infirm old men understood; he gave a purpose to the ends of their lives. The messenger clutched his beret and continued down the aisle to the row of confessional booths against the left wall.

He walked to the fifth booth, parted the curtain, and stepped inside, adjusting his eyes to the light of a single candle that glowed from the other side of the translucent drape separating priest from sinner. He sat down on the small wooden bench and looked at the silhouette in the holy enclosure. It was as it always was, the hooded figure of a man in a monk's habit.

The messenger tried not to imagine what that man looked like; it was not his place to speculate on such things. "Angelus Domini," he said.

"Angelus Domini, child of God," whispered the hooded silhouette. "Are your days comfortable?"

"They draw to an end," replied the old man, making the proper response, "but they are made comfortable."

"Good. It's important to have a sense of security at your age," said Carlos. "But to business. Did you get the particulars from Zurich?"

"The owl is dead; so are two others, possibly a third. Another's hand was severely wounded; he cannot work. Cain disappeared."

"An odd turn of events," said Carlos. "In the meantime, here are my instructions. Are you ready?"

The old man reached into his pocket and took out the stub of a pencil and a scrap of paper.

"Very well."

"Telephone Zurich. I want a man in Paris by tomorrow who has seen Cain, who can recognize him. Also, Zurich is to reach Koenig at the Gemeinschaft and tell him to send his tape to New York. He's to use the post office box in Village Station."

"Please," interrupted the aged messenger. "These old hands do not write as they once did."

"Forgive me," whispered Carlos. "I'm preoccupied and inconsiderate. I'm sorry."

"Not at all, not at all. Go ahead."

"Finally, I want our team to take rooms within a block of the bank on the rue Madeleine. This time the bank will be Cain's undoing. The pretender will be taken at the source of his misplaced pride. A bargain price, as despicable as he is … unless he's something else."


	13. Zurich part 2

Unknown's POV

Leaving the temple was one of the hardest things he had to do. Guilt ate at him as he left but he couldn't stay. Not with the dream that was a memory that came to him.

It had been two weeks since he arrived and nightmares plagued him. Part of him though they were memories but he couldn't be sure. Then the dream from that night came.

Flashback

His eyes were on fire! Fire! Explosions and darkness, high winds and pain.… Almanac to Delta! Abandon, abandon! You will respond as ordered. Abandon!

"Gordon …"

A man with black hair and blue eyes stood above his bed. A gentle smile played on his lips. The man wore a white button down shirt and black pants. His shirt was open revealing the bandages that covered his torso.

Delta winced. If he had been any later his brother would be dead. Just hours or even minutes later. How would he have been able to tell Jacob?

He tried to sit up but a hand on his chest stopped him. Gordon looked around as if checking to be sure they couldn't be overheard.

Then he said, "Listen they are disbanding the program. Those that are left will be evaluated and some will he sent home. Others will be sent to the psychiatrists in hopes of helping them."

Delta tsked. He knew where most people would want him to go. They would want him locked up to where he couldn't hurt anyone again.

Gordon said as if reading his thoughts, "Everyone except you. Alex wanted me to give this to you. It's a new assignment. It doesn't start immediately but soon. You will be allowed to go home without the evaluation. Just remember David. With this assignment everything always begins in Zurich."

End of flashback

Zurich... if he wanted real answers that's where he had to go. First he had to get out of the temple. If anyone noticed what he was up to then he would never get the answers he so desperately sought.

Slipping past his guards had been little more than child's play. Instincts long forgotten came out and he utilized each one.

As he made his way out of an east exit a low voice asked, "Where do you think you're going, Al Sahim?"

Shit... that was Al Sayf. He turned to find the man leaning against the wall. His hand twitched for the weapon that wasn't there. A faint look of amusement crossed the alpha's face.

Al Sayf said looking him up and down, "I was wondering how long it would take for you to run. What brought it on?"

The man without memories replied, "Memories. They are leading me to Zurich. I have to go, Al Sayf. I have to know who I am."

Al Sayf frowned then replied, "I will not lie for you, pup. Neither will I stand in your way. Go be swift and may you find what you are looking for."

"Thank you, Al Sayf," he said relief flooding him.

"Go and be safe! There is a plane waiting for a mile north of here. Your alpha will have my head if anything happens to you. "

With that the man left heading north to the indicated spot. As promises a plane was waiting for him. He gave the pilot orders to head to Zurich. There he hoped to find answers that had so far eluded him.

Ra's POV

Two weeks passed since Oliver returned to him. The man that Ra's knew was gone. Memories destroyed by an unknown enemy.

Members of the League had gone to get the full Treadstone files. Ra's was filled with dread as he read through it.

Oliver had been chosen right out of Medusa for the assignment. He got leave to visit his family. That was how he ended up on the island of Lian Yu.

If Oliver wasn't given that relief then they would have not met. Oliver was shown to have PTSD long before the release. It only grew worse on the island until he was brought before Ra's. Ra's had helped heal that mind and eventually bond.

Then Oliver disappeared. That was when the Treadstone project picked up. False kills that had been steady by that point picked up. Jason Bourne went to Paris and started to encroach upon Carlos.

When he woke up that morning his senses were screaming that something was wrong. Finding the kitchens, training room, and wall free of his omega he knew that the other was gone. That somehow Oliver escaped from Nanda Parbat.


	14. Zurich part 3

A/N thanks for your patience in this update. For the next two months my updates will be slow. I have a broken collarbone and it makes typing slow.

Ra's POV

He paced his throne room like a caged tiger. Before him stood Al Sayf, and Al Owal. Both men knew why they were there. Al Sayf had allowed Ra's mate to leave. The reasons were only known to him.

Al Owal for his part was ready to once again track the omega. With his previous success Ra's was hopeful. Oliver was still without memories and it would make catching him again easier.

Out of the League members currently in Nanda Parbat Al Owal knew Oliver the best. He trained the boy through the basics before Ra's stepped in. Before he bonded with the young omega Al Owal had shown the same interest.

Oliver had given them both an equal chance. Ra's per tradition allowed the omega to make the first move. Oliver wasn't trusting to him in the beginning.

Oliver watched with with a hurt sense of wariness. It was only when a week passed did the young omega confront him about the avoidance. Ra's smiled slightly at the memory.

Flashback

Ra's walked down the halls after supervising Oliver Queen's training. The day started with his bow training then Ra's personally sparred with the boy.

Al Owal had been sent on a mission that could not be put off. The man was reluctant to leave his initiate but the mission could not wait. It was high priority and Oliver was not yet a full fledged member. So he stayed at Nanda Parbat.

Oliver had improved significantly from when he first arrived. There had been several close calls in the swordplay.

When he was dismissed Oliver glanced at him with hurt before departing. Ra's didn't think much of it and headed towards his own rooms.

When night fell Ra's felt oddly restless. He went out to the field hidden in the shadow of the castle. It was his favorite place to hide out.

The night air was crisp and fresh calming him instantly. Silver flowers littered the ground. They were blooming under the light of the full moon.

A scent almost completely covered by the scent of flowers lingered. It was fresh and familiar. The scent of an lightened forest. He recognized it as Oliver's scent.

The young man was likely laying out in the flowers. He called out, "Initiate?"

About twenty yards out there was movement. A familiar dirty blond haired man sat up. The silver full moon above them lit up the boy's face. There was obvious wariness in his face but also curiosity.

Once the young omega realized who called out he was on his feet. Bowing lowly he greeted, "My liege. I'm sorry if I disturbed your night."

With that made his way towards the castle. Ra's stopped him, "Wait," the omega paused but did only meet his gaze, "Why have you been avoiding me? Did I not make my intentions clear?"

"You are the one avoiding me my liege. I should not have gotten my hopes up. I'm sorry excuse me."

Realizing his mistake Ra's reached out and grabbed the other's arm. There was a flash in the grey eyes. Even with his centuries of experience he didn't have time to react.

Oliver grabbed his wrist twisting it painfully before trying to throw Ra's. Ra's was able to stop throw by using his extra pounds. This pulled at the trapped wrist turning so that as wrist broke free he slammed his elbow back.

Oliver let out an oomph and Ra's turned to face him fully. Looking into the grey eyes he realized that he no longer was dealing with Oliver Queen. It seemed the rumors were true. The omega had multiple personalities.

Ra's snarled, "Initiate, calm yourself."

A low growl answered him. Ra's remembered the warnings of Al Owal. The other half was infinitely more dangerous. It had all of Oliver's skills without any of his morals.

Ra's prepared himself to be attacked again but it never came. Instead it was as if all of the boy's muscles locked up. There was a full body shake happening.

He took advantage to knock Oliver off his feet. Ra's landed on top of the omega and took both of the taller's wrists in a single hand. With his free hand he wrapped it around the back of Oliver's neck.

It took longer than normal for the omega's biology to kick in. When it did the boy slumped against the soft grass. Grey blue eyes looked up into Ra's true grey eyes.

The pain in the eyes told him more than he ever wanted to know. This wasn't someone who could ever be bought by false promises. Someone who would always follow their own path.

Any doubts that might have lingered in his mind were washed away. For the first time he wanted to bond with someone.

"Why?"

For the first time in years he was dumbfounded. Surprised by the question he blinked. It was a human gesture that few ever got to see.

Ra's let go of the boy's neck but did not get up. Instead he replied softly, "I think there has been a misunderstanding between us. In my culture the omega makes the first move in courting. Not the alpha."

Blue grey eyes narrowed. They searched his face for any indications of a lie.

Then they softened into a light blue with just hints of grey. The boy whispered softly, "I didn't know. I thought that you didn't feel the same way."

Ra's sighed equally as soft, "Its not your fault. I should have explained. I didnt want to pressure you however."

Oliver surprised him by rubbing his cheek against Ra's. Their scents mingled slightly. It was enough of an answer of Ra's.

End flashback

He could send Al Owal but Oliver would fight all the way. No Ra's had to go himself.

Ra's ordered, "Al Sayf you, Al Owal and my daughter will stay here. Myself, Al Namar, and Al Sayad will track my omega. We will return him home."

Both men raised their heads in acknowledgement. That was enough for him.

Unknown's POV

The sun was bright, filtering through the trees along the elegant Bahnhofstrasse, bouncing off the windows of the shops, and creating blocks of shadows where the great banks intruded on its rays.

It was a street where solidity and money, security and arrogance, determination and a touch of frivolity all coexisted; and Dr. Washburn's patient had walked along its pavements before.

Four days had passed since he left Nanda Parbat. He was trying to find who he was but it was leaving more questions than answers.

He strolled into the Burkli Platz, the square that overlooked the Zurichsee, with its numerous quays along the waterfront, bordered by gardens that in the heat of summer became circles of bursting flowers. He could picture them in his mind's eye; images were coming to him. But no thoughts, no memories.

He doubled back into the Bahnhofstrasse, instinctively knowing that the Gemeinschaft Bank was a nearby building of off-white stone; it had been on the opposite side of the street on which he had just walked; he had passed it deliberately.

He approached the heavy glass doors and pushed the center plate forward. The right-hand door swung open easily and he was standing on a floor of brown marble; he had stood on it before, but the image was not as strong as others.

He had the uncomfortable feeling that the Gemeinschaft was to be avoided. It was not to be avoided now.

"Bonjour, monsieur. Vous désirez …?" The man asking the question was dressed in a cutaway, the red boutonnière his symbol of authority.

The use of French was explained by the client's clothes; even the subordinate gnomes of Zurich were observant. "I have personal and confidential business to discuss," replied J. Bourne in English, once again mildly startled by the words he spoke so naturally.

The reason for the English was twofold: he wanted to watch the gnome's expression at his error, and he wanted no possible misinterpretation of anything said during the next hour.

"Pardon, sir," said the man, his eyebrows arched slightly, studying the client's topcoat.

"The elevator to your left, second floor. The receptionist will assist you."

The receptionist referred to was a middle-aged man with close-cropped hair and tortoise-shell glasses; his expression was set, his eyes rigidly curious.

"Do you currently have personal and confidential business with us, sir?" he asked, repeating the new arrival's words.

"I do," he confirmed.

"Your signature, please," said the official, holding out a sheet of Gemeinschaft stationery with two blank lines centered in the middle of the page.

The client understood; no name was required. The handwritten numbers take the place of a name … they constitute the signature of the account holder. Standard procedure. Washburn. The patient wrote out the numbers, relaxing his hand so the writing would be free.

He handed the stationery back to the receptionist, who studied it, rose from the chair, and gestured to a row of narrow doors with frosted glass panels. "If you'll wait in the fourth room, sir, someone will be with you shortly." "The fourth room?"

"The fourth door from the left. It will lock automatically."

"Is that necessary?" The receptionist glanced at him, startled.

"It is in line with your own request, sir," he said politely, an undertone of surprise beneath his courtesy. "This is a three-zero account. It's customary at the Gemeinschaft for holders of such accounts to telephone in advance so that a private entrance can be made available."

"I know that," lied Washburn's patient with a casualness he did not feel.

"It's just that I'm in a hurry." "I'll convey that to Verifications, sir."

"Verifications?" Mr. J. Bourne of New York City, U.S.A., could not help himself; the word had the sound of an alarm.

"Signature Verifications, sir." The man adjusted his glasses; the movement covered his taking a step nearer his desk, his lower hand inches from a console. "I suggest you wait in Room Four, sir."

The suggestion was not a request; it was an order, the command in the praetorian's eyes.

"Why not? Just tell them to hurry, will you?" The patient crossed to the fourth door, opened it and walked inside.

The door closed automatically; he could hear the click of the lock. J. Bourne looked at the frosted panel; it was no simple pane of glass, for there was a network of thin wires webbed beneath the surface. Undoubtedly if cracked, an alarm would be triggered; he was in a cell, waiting to be summoned.

The rest of the small room was paneled and furnished tastefully, two leather armchairs next to one another, across from a miniature couch flanked by antique tables. At the opposite end was a second door, startling in its contrast; it was made of gray steel.

Up-to-date magazines and newspapers in three languages were on the tables. The patient sat down and picked up the Paris edition of the Herald-Tribune. He read the printed words but absorbed nothing. The summons would come any moment now; his mind was consumed by thoughts of maneuver. Maneuver without memory, only by instinct.

Finally, the steel door opened, revealing a tall, slender man with aquiline features and meticulously groomed gray hair. His face was patrician, eager to serve an equal who needed his expertise.

He extended his hand, his English refined, mellifluous under his Swiss intonation as he greeted, "So very pleased to meet you. Forgive the delay; it was rather humorous, in fact." "In what way?"

"I'm afraid you rather startled Herr Koenig. It's not often a three-zero account arrives without prior notice. He's quite set in his ways, you know; the unusual ruins his day. On the other hand, it generally makes mine more pleasant. I'm Walther Apfel. Please, come in."

The bank officer released the patient's hand and gestured toward the steel door. The room beyond was a V-shaped extension of the cell. Dark paneling, heavy comfortable furniture and a wide desk that stood in front of a wider window overlooking the Bahnhofstrasse.

"I'm sorry I upset him," said J. Bourne. "It's just that I have very little time." "Yes, he relayed that."

Apfel walked around the desk, nodding at the leather armchair in front and ordered, "Do sit down. One or two formalities and we can discuss the business at hand."

Both men sat; the instant they did so the bank officer picked up a white clipboard and leaned across his desk, handing it to the Gemeinschaft client. Secured in place was another sheet of stationery, but instead of two blank lines there were ten, starting below the letterhead and extending to within an inch of the bottom border.

"Your signature, please. A minimum of five will be sufficient."

"I don't understand. I just did this." "And very successfully. Verification confirmed it." "Then why again?"

"A signature can be practiced to the point where a single rendition is acceptable. However, successive repetitions will result in flaws if it's not authentic. A graphological scanner will pick them up instantly; but then I'm sure that's no concern of yours." Apfel smiled as he placed a pen at the edge of the desk. "Nor of mine, frankly, but Koenig insists.

"He's a cautious man," said the patient, taking the pen and starting to write.

He had begun the fourth set when the banker stopped him. "That will do; the rest really is a waste of time." Apfel held out his hand for the clipboard.

"Verifications said you weren't even a borderline case. Upon receipt of this, the account will be delivered." He inserted the sheet of paper into the slot of a metal case on the right side of his desk and pressed a button; a shaft of bright light flared and then went out.

"This transmits the signatures directly to the scanner," continued the banker.

"Which, of course, is programmed. Again, frankly, it's all a bit foolish. No one forewarned of our precautions would consent to the additional signatures if he were an imposter."

"Why not? As long as he'd gone this far, why not chance it?"

"There is only one entrance to this office, conversely one exit. I'm sure you heard the lock snap shut in the waiting room."

"And saw the wire mesh in the glass," added the patient.

"Then you understand. A certified imposter would be trapped."

"Suppose he had a gun?"

"No one searched me." "The elevator did. From four different angles. If you had been armed, the machinery would have stopped between the first and second floors."

"You're all cautious."

"We try to be of service." The telephone rang.

Apfel answered. "Yes?… Come in."

The banker glanced at his client. "Your account file's here." "That was quick."

"Herr Koenig signed for it several minutes ago; he was merely waiting for the scanner release."

Apfel opened a drawer and took out a ring of keys. "I'm sure he's disappointed. He was quite certain something was amiss."

The steel door opened and the receptionist entered carrying a black metal container, which he placed on the desk next to a tray that held a bottle of Perrier and two glasses.

"Are you enjoying your stay in Zurich?" asked the banker, obviously to fill in the silence.

"Very much so. My room overlooks the lake. It's a nice view, very peaceful, quiet."

"Splendid," said Apfel, pouring a glass of Perrier for his client. Herr Koenig left; the door was closed and the banker returned to business.

"Your account, sir," he said, selecting a key from the ring.

"May I unlock the case or would you prefer doing so yourself?" "Go ahead. Open it."

The banker looked up. "I said unlock, not open. That's not my privilege, nor would I care for the responsibility."

"Why not?"

"In the event your identity is listed, it's not my position to be aware of it."

"Suppose I wanted business transacted? Money transferred, sent to someone else?"

"It could be accomplished with your numerical signature on a withdrawal form."

"Or sent to another bank—outside of Switzerland? For me."

"Then a name would be required. Under those circumstances an identity would be both my responsibility and my privilege."

"Open it."

The bank officer did so. Dr. Washburn's patient held his breath, a sharp pain forming in the pit of his stomach. Apfel took out a sheaf of statements held together by an outsized paperclip. His banker's eyes strayed to the righthand column of the top pages, his banker's expression unchanged, but not totally.

His lower lip stretched ever so slightly, creasing the corner of his mouth; he leaned forward and handed the pages to their owner. Beneath the Gemeinschaft letterhead the typewritten words were in English, the obvious language of the client:

Account: Zero—Seven—Seventeen—Twelve—Zero—Fourteen—Twenty-six—Zero

Name: Restricted to Legal

Instructions and Owner Access: Sealed Under Separate Cover Current

Funds on Deposit: 7,500,000 Francs

The patient exhaled slowly, staring at the figure. Whatever he thought he was prepared for, nothing prepared him for this. It was as frightening as anything he had experienced during the past five months.

Roughly calculated the amount was over five million American dollars. $5,000,000!

How? Why? Controlling the start of a tremble in his hand, he leafed through the statements of entry. They were numerous, the sums extraordinary, none less than 300,000 francs, the deposits spaced every five to eight weeks apart, going back thirty six months.

He reached the bottom statement, the first. It was a transfer from a bank in Singapore and the largest single entry. Two million, seven hundred thousand Malaysian dollars converted into 5,175,000 Swiss francs.

Beneath the statement he could feel the outline of a separate envelope, far shorter than the page itself. He lifted up the paper; the envelope was rimmed with a black border, typewritten words on the front.

Identity: Owner Access Legal Restrictions: Access—Registered Officer, Treadstone Seventy-One Corporation, Bearer Will Produce Written Instructions From Owner. Subject To Verifications.

"I'd like to check this," said the client.

"It's your property," replied Apfel. "I can assure you it has remained intact."

The patient removed the envelope and turned it over. A Gemeinschaft seal was pressed over the borders of the flap; none of the raised letters had been disturbed.

He tore the flap open, took out the card, and read:

Owner: Jason Charles Bourne Address: Unlisted

Citizenship: U.S.A.

Jason Charles Bourne. Jason. The J was for Jason! His name was Jason Bourne.

The Bourne had meant nothing, the J. Bourne still meaningless, but in the combination Jason and Bourne, obscure tumblers locked into place. He could accept it; he did accept it.

He was Jason Charles Bourne, American. Yet he could feel his chest pounding; the vibration in his ears was deafening, the pain in his stomach more acute. What was it? Why did he have the feeling that he was plunging into the darkness again, into the black waters again?

"Is something wrong?" asked Walther Apfel. Is something wrong, Herr Bourne?"

"No. Everything's fine. My name's Bourne. Jason Bourne." Was he shouting? Whispering? He could not tell.

"My privilege to know you, Mr. Bourne. Your identity will remain confidential. You have the word of an officer of the Bank Gemeinschaft."

"Thank you," he replied absentmindedly.

He pulled out cash that would last him a few days or could get him out of the country if needed. It took everything he had not to show how shaken up he was.

Everything about the bank had contradicted what he was told by Ra's. What was the truth of who he was? Was he Jason Bourne? Or was he Oliver Queen?

Just trying to think about it made his head pound. When he finally made it back outside he had to sit on the curb. His vision was blurry and he was seeing two of everything.

A calm warm voice inquired, "Oliver?"


	15. Zurich part 4

Malcolm's POV

When he had come to Switzerland he had not expected go run into Oliver. The younger man was sitting outside of the main bank.

The omega's eyes were grey instead of the blue he remembered. They were unfocused and he could see the confusion.

Slowly he approached and asked, "Oliver?"

Grey eyes shot up to meet his blue ones. There wasn't any recognition in the eyes. It hurt to think that the boy who played his son didn't recognize him.

Though talking to Dr. Washburn he learned that Oliver had been shot. If it happened any other way then the omega would not have survived. His son was lucky to be alive.

From what he understood the main damage was to his mind. There was a complete amnesia. Oliver didn't know who he was much less who anyone else in his life was.

The omega growled low in his throat, "League of Assassins? I'm not going back! Not until I know who I am!"

Grey eyes flashed with anger and fear. Malcolm only stared processing the words shouted at him.

Oliver knew who the League was and it seemed he had connections to them. That would explain his sudden disappearance from the island.

The League had several members hidden in the islands. Not one of them would be on that finishing isle. Too small for a foreigner to go unnoticed. Malcolm had easily been spotted and word had gotten around about the injured omega. Particularly that he was unbonded in a mostly alpha and beta island.

Malcolm said holding out his hands in a peaceful manner, "I'm not here to hurt you, Oliver. Nor am I here to drag you to the League. I left that life behind when you were just a child."

Confusion replaced fear the younger man's eyes. He questioned, "What do you mean? Who are you?"

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. They were being watched. Most likely not by someone friendly.

Malcolm said, "Not here. It seems we are being watched. Oliver, I have answers to the questions. Not all of them for you disappeared but some of them."

The omega growled, "I am tired of people telling me that they know who I am. All anyone wants is to use me for their own gain."

Oliver was on his feet in the next moment. When Malcolm made to grab him his hand was knocked away.

Malcolm gave a light jab testing his son's defenses. It was deflected as the grey eyes darkened with anger.

Malcolm allowed the boy to attack him. A jab was aimed for his throat and the alpha deflected it. It was followed by a kick meant for his ribs.

Instead of deflecting he caught the foot. He pulled the man off balance and a wince crossed his face. Injuries it seemed weren't fully healed.

Oliver pulled his leg free and Malcolm allowed it. The next attack was a right hook that was immediately deflected. Instead of allowing the man to retreat Malcolm struck out.

It was blocked by the omega who seemed to fall into a routine. Someone had trained his son. This wasn't training that was normal in regular soldiers. Or even normal training within the League. It was specialized.

Malcolm stopped holding back as a crowd began to gather. He didn't want to hurt his son but they couldn't afford to gather a large crowd.

Malcolm struck hard in the man's abdomen aiming directly for where his wound was. The breath was knocked out of him but Malcolm was already continuing the movement.

He gripped the younger's arm at the wrist. Pivoting he threw the boy over his shoulder roughly onto the ground. Without releasing the wrist he twisted it behind the man's back and planted his knee into his back.

He wrapped a hand around the back of the omega's neck. Even as he tried to control the boy he tried to buck Malcolm off.

Malcolm tightened his grip until the boy's biology kicked in. Oliver relaxed unwillingly into his grip.

Oliver asked as Malcolm dragged him up a firm hand still on his neck, "What are you doing? Where are we going?"

Malcolm led the omega through the streets without answering. Every time the omega tried to pull away Malcolm tightened his grip.

The crowd dispersed believing that it was a mating issue. No one knew them to know better.

Malcolm had a hotel nearby and that was where he led the other. Hotel employees knew better than to ask questions when it came to him. Those that did didn't have a job for very long.

Several times in the elevator he had to remind Oliver that he was in charge. This boy could fight and fight well. The last thing he needed was another one. This time he might be injured if they did.

It wasn't until they were in his suit and he locked down the elevator that Malcolm released the boy. Immediately he put space in between them. Grey eyes held wariness even as Malcolm went to the kitchen.

If he was going to talk some sense into his wayward son then he would need a drink. He found a bottle of scotch in the cabinets and poured two fingers worth for him. After a moment he poured a fingers worth for Oliver.

Placing the bottle down on the counter he walked to where Oliver was checking the room. There was little doubt in his mind that the other was searching for escape or a weapon. The only weapons were hidden away through a biometric scanner.

He called out, "Oliver there no weapons over there. Come have a drink with me."

Placing the drink on the edge of the coffee table he sat in one of the chairs. There was plenty of space for the younger man. It should be enough for there to be a smidgen of trust.

Conklin's POV

His fist slammed down upon the desk in front of him. How in the hell had David pulled that off? Without his memories, he should not have known how to get to the bank.

Alex's first thought had been that David fooled Panov. Two of the three personalities inside the omega were master manipulators. It wouldn't be unheard of them to fool someone.

Panov, however, was the main doctor for all of Treadstone and Treadstone 71's operatives. He knew their manipulations better than any other doctor.

Alex's instincts told him that David wasn't lying about his memories. Still, he couldn't leave things as they were. The Director would have his head if he didn't give a capture order.

His second came in and questioned, "You asked for me, sir?"

Alex's hazel grew cold as he ordered, "Make this an immediate order. All operatives of the Treadstone group are to find and capture Jason Bourne. I want him alive no matter the cost."


	16. Treadstone and Treadstone 71 part 1

A/N Thanks for your reviews and support. Happy New Year Everyone!

Oliver's POV

After checking the door and finding it secured he did a complete check over the suite. His memories might not fully be back yet but instincts were still there. Instinct that he would not ignore.

This man said that he knew him but so far everyone who said that wanted something from him. Whether it was to regain a bond that was there but muted. Or it was to find out how he ended up in the waters off of France. No one truly wanted to help him regain who he was.

If Oliver was honest with himself it scared him. They said that they were going to help him. It didn't seem that way, however. Until he knew for sure who could be trusted he would keep everyone at a distance.

The man who dragged him here was watching him from one of the chairs. In his hand was a glass full of what appeared to be whiskey. On the table was a similar glass with slightly less of the whiskey.

The man called out, "Oliver there are no weapons over there. Come have a drink with me."

Oliver glared at the man in response. As if he would do something so insane with this alpha. This man was able to stop him without alcohol in his system. With it, Oliver wouldn't be able to put up a real fight.

The alpha sighed, "You don't trust me. It's understandable given your memory loss. Though it does make me wonder how you became apart of the League. Ra's isn't one to let his men go without a good reason."

Oliver stiffened and glared at the man. He was not answering that. He might be an omega but that didnt mean he was weak.

There was a brush against his mind from the bond. This caused him to physically start. He still wasnt used to it be there or active as it was.

At his unease, there was a brush of comfort. He knew it could only be Ra's. Knowing didnt make it any easier to accept. Until he knew for himself who he was he wasn't returning with anyone.

Oliver glanced at the alpha who had him trapped in the room. Even if he had to fight his way out.

The alpha sighed, "Oliver you don't remember because of your memory loss but you grew up as my son's best friend. I am a close family friend of the Queen family."

Oliver simply glared at the other. For all, he knew the alpha was lying. He trusted one set of people and that almost l landed him sedated and on a flight to who knew where.

Oliver queried uncertainly as he moved around the room again, "Who are you? You haven't exactly introduced yourself."

The alpha replied with a gentle look, "Malcolm Merlyn in the outside world. To the League, however, I am known as Al Saher."

Oliver's head exploded with pain as a memory pushed it's way forward.

Flashback

Al Owal circled around Oliver who wore League gear. A bow was in his hand pressed against his right leg. He was waiting for instructions from the older man.

Across the room was a target it was imbued with his arrows. Several arrows had been split down the middle. It took precision shooting and strength to split an arrow.

Behind the masked Oliver, the doors to the training opened. The scent of a scorched desert just after sunset filled the room. It could only belong to the Demon's Head.

The alpha stated in a cold tone, "He is just as skilled as Al Saher. Have you tried speed trials with him yet?"

Al Owal replied equally as cold, "That is the speed runs. He took to it like a fish to water."

Ra's retrieved the arrows checking each one he pulled free. Oliver stood carefully at attention watching each movement. It wasnt unheard of for the Demon's Head to suddenly attack an initiate. A test to see if they were understanding their training. So far he had not been unfortunate enough to be caught off guard. Those that were, were given extra training on top of the ones they already did.

Ra's turned to face him and ordered, "Again."

With his right hand, Oliver reached into his quiver and drew three arrows. At a nod from Ra's, he nocked them onto the right side of his bow and fired one after another. Each hit the targets exactly where he wanted them to.

"Again."

Oliver continued going not even acknowledging the order to continue. Neither did he notice when the orders stopped coming. It wasn't until his quiver was empty did he stop.

"He's a better archer than Al Saher was. Keep him going through his paces. Test the limits of his abilities."

Al Owal intoned, "Yes, my liege."

End of flashback

Oliver turned and said barely keeping his hand from rising to press against his temple, "Al Saher. The Magician of the League. You were one of the best archers in the League."

Merlyn hummed in acknowledgment. His eyes were an ice blue color that seemed to see his every movement. They were definitely the eyes of an archer.

A person could lie about it and try to fake the mannerisms. However, when it came down to it a fellow archer would always be able to spot the truth within the lies.

Something in him told him that despite everything he should hear the man out. Given that the entire time he searched the room twice he had not found a way out it would be his best chance.

As he moved towards the middle of the room where Merlyn sat he felt a prickle on the back of his neck. They were being watched by unfriendly eyes. Oliver was weaponless since he left the castle.

Merlyn noticed his sudden stiffness and slowly stood. Two sets of eyes searched the room for dangers. It came from the elevator that had been locked. By way of explosion.

Oliver was thrown into the air before he landed painfully on his back. Even with the carpet, his head hit the floor with a crack. It made him see stars.

For a moment he was stunned before instincts kicked in. The next moment he was on his feet. Swift movement made his head spin but it only lasted for half a second.

What he saw surprised him. Three men in all black fighting against Merlyn. While they were skilled it seemed Merlyn was keeping them at bay with ease. The fighter in the man was showing through.

A shiver ran down his spine at the sight. Merlyn had gone easy on him when subduing him.


End file.
